


Firebird

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Artist!Mickey, Editor!Ian, Fluff, M/M, Mythology References, Overzealous Promotion of Certain Foods, Sexting, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 128,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey Milkovich is a struggling artist in New York City. He likes mythology, people watching, and expensive paint. He doesn't like asshole customers, getting paint in his hair, or the way that redheaded guy always sits by himself on the train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Things Known

**Author's Note:**

> So I really love mythology. Like, I could wax poetic about how fucking cool it is, but I won't, just basically know that I am Mickey and Mickey is me and if you don't like mythology, you are wrong. Basically.
> 
> I'll be adding tags as they're needed, and the rating is subject to change. At the moment, it's basically just mature for swearing. (If you've read anything else by me, you know how much I love swearing.)
> 
>  **edit:** i cbf changing the links at the end of every chapter in this, but i've moved my tumblr to [grumpypunkbucky](http://grumpypunkbucky.tumblr.com) so please don't follow/interact with im-not-his-keeper. i have attachment issues w that url. (updates on url will always be linked in my profile, just in case u lose track of me/current url linked is wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my bae [T](http://lggymilkovich.tumblr.com/) for being my beta for this chapter c:

There were three things in life that Mickey Milkovich had always been very sure of and, at one point or another, denied _completely._

First, no matter how hard he tried not to be, he was gay. Yeah, he had slept with girls and all, but that was more for show than anything. If he didn’t, then he would look gay, right? And there was no way in Hell there could be a gay Milkovich. Comparing the feelings he got between having things – dicks or otherwise – shoved up his ass, and having sex with a girl? Tits just didn’t do it for him. Girls in general didn’t. He had always known and was pretty okay with it, actually. He just didn’t want anyone to find out, and that seemed like a reasonable enough request, because the last thing he wanted to happen was to have his dad beat the living shit out of him. Or, y’know, kill him.

Secondly, he fucking _loved_ art. Drawing, painting, fuck – even sculpting shit gave him a weird adrenaline rush. He loved the fact that he could transfer images from inside his head onto a piece of paper or a canvas, or mould a hunk of clay into something beautiful. Of course, he didn’t do much with clay or canvases until he left home, because in his father’s eyes, that would’ve been a dead giveaway that he was even the slightest bit anything other than entirely straight. Stupid fucking Terry. Paper, though. That was easier to come by and considerably easier to hide. Pencils, too. There were loose floorboards all over his room, so he basically picked the most accessible one – the one that was covered with the least dirty clothing and bits of rubbish – and carefully stowed away his sketchbook and stolen supplies. He only worked on his drawings when Terry was in prison, out of the house, or passed out, and those seemed to be good tactics, because Terry never found out about his art stuff.

And the third thing Mickey was absolutely sure of was that mythology was the best thing ever. Before he went to sleep, Mickey’s mother used to tell him stories about the firebird, _vila_ , and _rusalka_ , and Mickey was utterly fascinated by it all. They were the stories that she had grown up listening to, because Mickey’s Ukrainian mother had Russian relatives, so her bedtime stories were many and varied, and if there was one thing she wanted to pass on to her children, it was the wonder that she, herself, had felt as a young girl, as she listened to her babushka tell stories about Baba Yaga and her chicken legged hut.

Even as Mickey got older, he still had an interest in mythology, and he started looking into it more, and if any of the librarians at either his school or the public library ever saw him sitting engrossed in books, and making his way through piles of literature, they never said anything. They saw him sneak in through the front doors, and acted like they hadn’t noticed him. He, apparently, was thankful for that.

The more Mickey read and learned, the more he developed favourite cultural mythologies. He liked the Norse stuff a decent amount – the story of Loki giving birth to an eight-legged horse never failed to confuse and amuse him, and Thor just seemed like a total badass. Chinese, Aztec , Celtic... Anything Mickey could get his hands on, he would devour and absorb into his mind, and he loved it. His absolute favourites, though, were the Egyptian, Greek and Roman pantheons and their associated stories.

Mythology, man. It was fucking awesome, and anyone who said differently was completely and utterly fucking _lying_.

Of course, over time, Mandy found out all of these three things.

The drawing came first. Sixteen year old Mickey was sitting on his bed, completely at ease, because Terry was in prison, and the house was empty. He turned on his iPod, and crammed the buds in his ears as he cracked open the floorboard under his bed. Mickey sat on his bed and opened up to his latest work in progress: a female Viking warrior with actual, _functional_ armour. None of that sexualised bullshit for Mickey’s badass warrior ladies. All those crappy movies that Mickey’s brothers were so fond of had these women running around in shit that was just... wrong. He couldn’t get it out of his head, so he got straight into drawing what it _should_ be like. Not that they would ever see it.

As Mickey shut his eyes and twirled his pencil between his fingers, envisioning the finished drawing in his mind, he didn’t notice someone was in his room with him, until his sketchbook had been ripped from his hands.

Mickey’s eyes shot back open and he yanked his headphones out. ‘Fuck you want?’ he asked, scowling at – thank God – Mandy.

Mandy raised her eyebrows in a way that she had _definitely_ got from him, and waved the book in the air. ‘What the fuck is this, Mickey?’

Mickey blushed. ‘Nothing, give it the fuck back and get the fuck outta here.’

‘No,’ she replied, turning her attention back to the page. ‘Is this... What the hell _is_ this?’

‘Viking,’ he muttered. Mickey was strangely shocked by his own willingness to talk about it. Maybe he had just been waiting for this Goddamn opportunity to talk about his art, so he wasn’t the only one praising it, because he was definitely biased.

‘Yeah, I see that,’ Mandy nodded. ‘You draw this?’

‘So what if I did?’ Mickey said defensively. _Shit_ , maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was?’

‘This is awesome, Mickey,’ Mandy said, plopping down next to him on the bed. ‘Seriously, so good.’

‘You think?’ he asked, biting his lip nervously.

‘No, I think it’s shitty and I’m just saying that to make you feel better.’ Upon seeing Mickey’s expression become slightly hurt, Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘ _Yes_ , I think it’s good. Jesus, Mickey, how have you been hiding this?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ he muttered. ‘Just give it back and leave me alone.’

‘Why a Viking? Why a female Viking?’ she asked, passing him the book back.

Mickey shut it instantly and let out a long suffering sigh. ‘Me, Iggy and Colin were watching a thing about Vikings and the armour was all wrong, and it was fucking me off, so I don’t know... I wanted to put it right.’

‘How the fuck do you know about Vikings? The fuck, Mick?’

‘I read about it, Jesus, Mandy.’

‘You read?’

‘Yeah, now fuck off,’ Mickey said, gesturing threateningly at her with his pencil. ‘Out.’

Mandy held her hands up in surrender and stood, because she could feel she was pushing Mickey right now. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going.’

‘Good,’ Mickey said, narrowing his eyes as she went into the bathroom. What-the-fuck-ever. She could pee if she wanted, but Mickey wasn’t opening that sketchbook again until she had left and shut his bedroom door behind her.

Mandy found out about Mickey’s interest in mythology a couple of weeks later, mostly just because he was still into Norse at the time, and was drawing a kickass Thor, using a couple of photocopied pictures from the library for reference of Norse patterns and stuff. She just rolled her eyes and pretended nothing had happened.

Mandy finding out Mickey was gay? That was a considerably more traumatic experience, for the both of them. She had just got home and was too lazy to go to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Instead, she walked straight into her brother’s room without knocking, and was met with an eyeful of ass.

‘Um,’ Mandy said, breaking the rhythm of grunts and heavy breathing.

Mickey’s head whipped around and he screamed, ‘Get the fuck out!’

Mandy didn’t need to be told twice, and as she reversed swiftly out the room, she heard her brother yelling at the other dude to get his fucking clothes on and fuck off. She sat on the couch, looking down at her hands, and waited for the random blond guy to move subtly out of the house, darting past her to the front door.

‘Mickey?’ she called. ‘Can we talk?’

‘No fucking way,’ came the reply.

‘I’m guessing he wasn’t helping you learn yoga or something,’ Mandy said. ‘But um... I really don’t care if you like stuff up the ass.’

A pause. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, why the fuck would I?’

‘Fuck if I know,’ Mickey popped his head out of his room. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’

‘No, and fuck you for thinking so.’

Mickey nodded in thanks and went back into his room.

Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘Dork.’

 

* * *

 

About a year went by, and Mickey turned eighteen. He had started showing Mandy a few pieces of his art to get her opinion on it, but as far as she knew, he hadn’t been fucking any other guys in the house. He did disappear a few times overnight, and Mandy figured he was going out to find someone he could fuck quickly in an alley, or the bathroom of a club, so he could get his pent up sexual energy out.

A few months after his birthday, Mickey got out of the Milkovich house – or rather, the Southside in general.

He sold his drawings where he could, dealt a fuckton of weed and various other drugs, and saved every single dollar he got from his crappy job working as a waiter in the Northside. The restaurant claimed to be “progressive”, so Mickey didn’t have to cover his tattoos, but he still got bad looks from snooty old people.

When Mickey had enough money, he packed his stuff, and bought a one way ticket to New York, leaving Mandy behind in Chicago after a loud argument in which she yelled at him how she would be fine, and he yelled back that if she wasn’t, he would kill her. The only reason Mickey conceded to leave her behind was because he knew she had friends she could stay with if things got a bit hairy at home, and made her promise that as soon as she had finished high school, she would come live with him.

Mickey managed to find a pretty good apartment within his price range, strangely enough. It was small, but not so small it felt claustrophobic. The kitchen, dining, and living areas all sort of flowed together to create one large space, with two decent sized bedrooms and a bathroom accessible through doors to the right of the front door to the apartment. It might have been a bit unnecessary for Mickey to get a two bedroom place already, but he figured that until Mandy moved in with him in about a year’s time, he could always use the spare room as a studio.

That pretty much ended up being how he got into canvas paintings. Mandy had “acquired” him some paints for his birthday after she found out about his little hobby, and Mickey hadn’t had the chance to use them yet. He found them while unpacking his stuff, and frowned at them. It took him all of about five minutes to jump on Google, find the closest art supplies store, and go down to buy the biggest canvas he could afford (which turned out to be fairly small, actually).

Mickey was, initially, stumped for what to paint, so he started experimenting with his paints and creating different colour combinations, until he ended up with a rich turquoise colour. He tilted his head and hummed thoughtfully, as it briefly occurred to him that he hadn’t actually finished unpacking yet. He basically said “ _Fuck it_ ”, and started painting a _rusalka_. He couldn’t help thinking that if Terry were to somehow see him _painting_ what was essentially a fucking _mermaid_ , then he would go apeshit. But who gave a crap about Terry anymore? Well, Mickey did. He knew that Terry would never find out where he was, but the thought still scared him.

Mickey’s innocent little mermaid ending up turning into a siren luring men to their deaths, one delicate hand extended to gently touch the sailor’s face, and the other extended beneath the water, where her nails turned to talons, and sharp, spiky ridges appeared along her tail. The long black hair that draped over her torso and into the water turned into thick, twisting ropes that would undoubtedly strangle the sailor if he wasn’t torn apart by her as soon as he touched the water.

Somehow, she also ended up with Mandy’s face. It was weird, but not entirely unexpected, because Mandy had been on his mind a lot lately, seeing as she was still in Chicago. But hey, the siren was a badass, and Mandy was a badass, and no doubt she would laugh at this while being secretly flattered. Not like she’d never seen Mickey’s drawings of her, though. (The first picture he allowed her to see, her eyebrows shot straight up and she said, ‘Does my hair really look like that?’ and then told him it was great, so he was a bit confused what that meant, overall.)

The thing is, Mickey was now in New York, living off limited funds, and had no backup plan for earning money. He figured he would just sort that out when he got here, but now he realised that was probably a really horrible idea. He decided to sort all that out the next day, so he had a quick shower to wash the paint off his skin – how did he end up covered in paint? – and pretty much just crashed into bed from there.

 

* * *

 

Mickey went out the next day and got lucky. Like, _really_ lucky. He was walking past a mechanic’s when he heard a lot of loud swearing and yelling, and suddenly a very small, very angry, little dude burst out and turned to stand outside the garage, giving the occupants the finger, and yelling, ‘Fucking job! Shove it up your fucking _ass_! Fuck you! Fuck. YOU!’

Mickey waited for the man to turn and stalk off down the street, before he slipped inside.

‘Can I help you?’ asked the young blond dude sitting behind the reception desk. He was wearing cleaner than average overalls, had his boots up on the desk, and was doing something on his phone.

‘Uh, yeah, I was walking past and it sounds like you might have an opening?’ Mickey said, jerking his head in the direction of the street.

Blondie gave him the once over. ‘Andy!’ he yelled. ‘Dude here for you!’

A tall, greying man appeared from the door to the garage, wiping his hands on an already grease stained rag. ‘You need somethin’?’

‘You Andy?’

‘Apparently,’ the man replied, pointing to the embroidered name on his overalls. ‘What can I do for ya?’

‘Heard you might have an opening?’ Mickey asked. ‘I was just walking past and heard the angry dude saying something about jobs up asses or something.’

Apparently-Andy nodded. ‘You know stuff about cars?’

‘A fair amount, yeah. I’m a quick learner, as well,’ Mickey said, trying not to sound too desperate.

Apparently-Andy shrugged. ‘Yeah, alright. I’ll give you a trial today, if you’re any good, you start tomorrow.’

‘Sounds good,’ Mickey nodded.

‘A’ight, what’s your name?’

‘Mickey.’

‘Great. Cody can get you sorted with a pair of overalls, and I’ll see you in there to get you shown around and see how good you are,’ Andy gestured to Blondie, and went back into the garage.

‘Hi, I’m Cody,’ Blondie said. ‘Let’s get you overalled.’

 

* * *

 

As much as Mickey liked his new job at the mechanic’s, his wages were just not enough to pay all his bills, buy food, and get his art supplies.

Turned out that Mickey was a bit of a snob when it came to paints and pencils and anything else he needed, because he hated having to buy generic stuff, and somehow found himself always buying the most expensive things in stock. He blamed Mandy for that wholeheartedly, because she had gotten him paints, but she had gotten him _really good_ paints. He tried to use the cheaper stuff, but the colours never came out as nice, and it just didn’t feel _right_. Fucking Mandy.

So, Mickey ended up needing to find himself another job.

Pretty much the only thing he had real experience with was waiting tables, and he got a few interviews, but most of them turned him down because of his general demeanour and grumpiness. The knuckle tattoos didn’t exactly help, either. However, for all the people that will turn you down, there’s always one that is weirdly fascinated for the exact reasons you got rejected by everyone else.

Somehow, Mickey had managed to get a job as a waiter again, because the person who interviewed him – the owner’s wife – found him _charming_. Seriously, what the fuck. Mickey Milkovich is a lot of things, but charming is almost certainly not one of them. Nevertheless, he accepted the job, because the pay wasn’t shit, he got free food at the end of his shift, and they didn’t mind his tattoos. What was with all these “progressive” people?

The two things he didn’t like were the asshole customers he had to put up with, and the fact that it required a fairly lengthy commute on the subway, though it was a necessary evil, and Mickey developed a habit of people watching, so it wasn’t entirely bad.

 

* * *

 

Mickey had settled in nicely to his apartment in the ten months he had been there. Of course, he had forgotten that he had initially gotten a two bedroom so that Mandy could live with him as soon as she finished high school. So, naturally when she called him to say she would be in New York in two weeks, and could he pick her up from the airport, Mickey had a bit of a panic attack.

The seeds off his studio were firmly planted in Mandy’s soon-to-be bedroom, and he was pissed off he had to move it all, after having spent so long organising everything to be just how he liked it. He needed to clear the room out, and air it too, because he doubted Mandy would be appreciative of her room smelling like paint fumes.

Mandy moving in annoyed him for one other reason that had nothing to do with having to move all his art things. It meant he would lose privacy. Not necessarily because he had a guy that he saw on a semi-regular basis for just-above-average sex, but because now Mickey was used to having an entire apartment to himself, and having someone else there would feel kind of like an intrusion in his brain. Then again, he used to have people walking straight through his room to get to a bathroom, so he was used to having no personal space whatsoever. It would be just like old times.

 

* * *

 

Mandy didn’t even last that long in Mickey’s apartment, because she had saved up money while she was still in Chicago. She got a job as a receptionist at a beauty therapist’s office a couple of months after moving in with Mickey, and made friends with a few of the people she worked with. It was a happy coincidence that they lived together and had a spare room in their apartment, so Mandy packed her stuff up again and moved out to live with them. Mickey made one of Mandy’s new roommates – a young Russian woman with a piercing gaze named Svetlana – to look after Mandy, or else the wrath of Mickey Milkovich would be down on her like a ton of bricks.

Svetlana just laughed lightly, patted him on the head and said, ‘I am not afraid of angry little men.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes at her and replied with, ‘Yeah, well,’ he put the last box of Mandy’s stuff in Svetlana’s car. ‘Whatever.’

‘You should not worry,’ Svetlana said, humour gone from her voice. ‘She will be fine.’

‘She better be.’

‘Jesus, Mickey,’ Mandy sighed. ‘Stop worrying about me, okay? I can take care of myself.’

‘I know, fuck. You fight better than I do.’

Mandy grinned. ‘Exactly. You’ll be good?’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey said. ‘Managed without you for this fucking long. I’m glad you’re leaving because it means I get my studio back.’

‘That reminds me. Can I have that _rusalka_ painting?’ she asked hopefully.

‘If you wanna pay me for it, sure.’

‘Fuck that,’ Mandy said, pulling Mickey into a hug. ‘Thanks for letting me stay here, Mick.’

‘Whatever,’ he mumbled, blowing Mandy’s hair from his face.

‘Whatever,’ she mocked. ‘You’re coming to my welcoming party, right?’

‘Not working tonight, so I might as well,’ he shrugged.

‘Good,’ she said, releasing him from her grasp and getting into Svetlana’s car. ‘See you later!’

‘Yeah, okay,’ he replied, waving his hand in a little half wave, and going back inside his building.

Once he was back in his apartment, Mickey went over to the easel in his dining area that held the _rusalka_ painting and hummed thoughtfully.

Mandy had said to him on more than one occasion, _“I really love this painting. Looks a bit like me, doesn’t she? Reminds me of all the stories Mom used to tell us,”_ and he had always replied with, _“Yeah, I like it too. And you’re not getting it,”_ then he would laugh at Mandy as she pouted at him.

But now she had moved out, and really, it would free up the easel for something new. He could just as easily hang it somewhere in the apartment – maybe in his studio? – but he knew Mandy would appreciate it as a moving present. With his decision made, Mickey started digging around the haphazard pile of art things, and found his roll of brown paper and some string, so he could wrap the canvas for Mandy.

Once he had wrapped the canvas and put it beside the door so he wouldn’t forget it when he went out later, he pulled his drop cloth out of the box he had shoved it in. He spread it out across the floor of his - now reclaimed - studio, and started moving all his art things back in.

 

* * *

 

Four years after having moved to New York, Mickey had been promoted to assistant manager at the garage down the street, and was head waiter at the restaurant across town. He had also somehow managed to build up a small cult following for his art, because he had sold a couple of pieces to Andy from the garage, Elle at the restaurant, and also to Mandy and Svetlana’s boss for in their office, and it had generated interest in him and his work.

Svetlana and Mandy, it seemed, had become better friends than anyone Mandy had ever known at home in Chicago. They had moved out of the apartment they shared with a few other people, and moved into a place of their own, along with Svetlana’s boyfriend, Flynn. They all got along well, and Svetlana had kept her promise to take care of Mandy and make sure nothing happened to her. There had been more than one occasion where Svetlana had gone of the defence and removed a shady looking guy from the apartment with the threat of her trusty claw hammer. Of course, Mandy had been pissed off at the time, but she was always glad when Svetlana intervened, because she just seemed to know when there was something off about a guy, and she was always proven right. (Svetlana had once stopped Mandy from leaving the apartment with a guy who, a few months later, was found guilty of the murder of a girl he took home one night.)

When Mickey first moved to New York, the strange people who were sometimes on his train to get to work at the restaurant gave him a bit of a shock – like the dude who always got on at the same stop, and was always dressed as Johnny Depp’s Mad Hatter. But now, he was used to that guy. Same with the girl who stood, no matter how many seats were available, and danced wildly to the music Mickey could hear coming from her headphones. There was also a head of ginger hair, who sat near the front of the carriage, and never turned around, so Mickey didn’t really know that much about the owner of the hair. All he knew was that he – Mickey assumed it was a dude – always seemed to be reading something, and that he got on before Mickey, and off after him, though he had first started appearing on the train only about a year ago.

Mickey had no idea why it annoyed him so much that the redhead always sat by himself, away from everyone else. Not that the guy seemed to care all that much. Mickey, to be fair, had always been the same, but after living in New York for a few years, he basically didn’t give a crap anymore. If there was a seat free, no matter who it was beside, he would sit. Obviously, because of “polite social etiquette” or some shit, if there was a whole bunch of empty seats, you would take one of those, not one next to someone. Then again, there was always that _one person_ who was kind of creepy and would sit two seats away, if not one, or right next to Mickey. He didn’t like that so much.

The day that the entire carriage was full, except for one or two seats, was the day that Mickey actually got to see what the fuck Red was hiding all by himself in the front rows of seats. He had, apparently, had to get on the train from a different station on his way home, and frowned when he saw the lack of seats. He took the open space right opposite Mickey, and pulled out a thick wad of paper and a pen, crossing his legs so he could prop the paper up to write on it.

Mickey watched him as casually as he could over the top of his phone, but _damn_ , the guy was pretty hot. Even when he was seemingly annoyed at the paper in front of him, Mickey found him wildly attractive. It was weird. He could feel his crush on this random dude already budding in his chest, and it was about five seconds after he sat down that Mickey resolved to _somehow_ get to know more about this guy. Fuck “polite social etiquette”. He was going in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on tumblr: [wintersgtbuchanan](http://wintersgtbuchanan.tumblr.com)


	2. Wanna Hear The Specials, Asshole?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man i enjoyed writing and editing this chapter.

Ian Gallagher was pissed off.

First, he had been late out of work, meaning he missed his train and had to run through the streets to get to the next station along the line in order to not miss that one as well. He barely made it on time, and when he went through the doors onto the train, his usual seats were taken up. Actually, pretty much _everything_ was taken up, with the exception of a couple of places. He took the closest seat he could see, and pulled out the most recent fiasco of a manuscript he had been given to go through and edit.

As he sat down, he pulled the stack of papers from his bag, as well as a pen from in one of the side pockets, and flipped to his place. Yeah, doing things on a laptop is a lot easier, but Ian preferred to have something corporeal to work with. It provided less distraction, and was better to work with on his commutes to and from his office.

He tried to pretend he didn’t see the dark haired guy across the carriage watching him over the top of his phone. The guy wasn’t very subtle about it, and Ian wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it. Was he being marked for a mugging? Did his moderately priced suit and messenger bag scream _“pretentious asshole with a lot of money”_ or something? Oh God, seriously? That would be the cherry on top of the cake for his day.

But wait. Phone Dude didn’t look like he had any malicious intent. It looked like he was just... interested in him. He was doing a weird squinty and head tilt thing and biting his lip, and Ian found it really kind of adorable. Ian thought there was a possibility Phone Dude might beat him up for saying that – he looked like the type, honestly – but he was definitely cute. And maybe checking Ian out?

Ian decided to fuck with him a little, so he looked up from the manuscript, and directly at Phone Dude opposite him. He smiled at him and gave a small wave of his pen, before going back to editing, and angrily crossing out an entire sentence. He looked up again, and Phone Dude had flushed slightly and was concentrating extra hard on whatever was on his screen – which, if the movement of his eyes was anything to go by, was nothing.

He was more cautious with his glancing at Ian, but if Phone Dude was trying to come across as disinterested after Ian had waved at him, then he was failing. Badly.

A little while later, the train came to a stop, and Phone Dude got up to leave. He picked up the backpack at his feet and followed the flow of people leaving through the door next to Ian’s seat. He was obviously trying not to pay attention to the fact that he was now within touching distance of the guy he had been obviously-not-staring at for almost twenty minutes, and it seemed like his resolve had held, until the second he passed Ian and looked down at him, biting his lip again.

Ian caught him and grinned, unabashedly winking at him.

Phone Dude blushed and hurried from the train, walking swiftly along the platform and out of sight.

Ian continued smiling to himself as the train jolted to life again and continued on its way, and briefly wondered if this guy was always on his train. If he was, maybe Ian needed to start sitting down here more often, rather than his usual seats at the front.

Nevertheless, he pushed the thought of Phone Dude from his mind, and got up as the train pulled into his station. He left the carriage and pulled his coat tighter around himself, as he made his way to his apartment in the cold night air. He had been late from work, after all, and neither his nor his dog’s stomachs would be thanking him for it.

 

* * *

 

It was a complete accident. Honestly.

The day after he had been staring at Red across the train carriage was Mickey’s day off from everything, so he went into his studio, and picked up a pencil. He started absentmindedly sketching, and was soon looking down and realising he had just drawn Red from the train.

 _No, his jaw was a bit sharper than that_ , he found himself thinking, as he looked down at his page. He picked up his eraser, and corrected it. _Ah yes, much better_.

Obviously, when he filled the page with colour, making sure he got the right combination of oranges, golds, and reds for his hair, it was somewhat of a shock, because Mickey wasn’t even aware that he had continued the drawing. It wasn’t too bad, actually, and that was what scared him the most.

He hadn’t even been in close proximity to the guy, and somehow had managed to recreate his face as accurately as he could remember it from twenty minutes of half-assed and totally unsubtle staring.

Wow, that’s not creepy at all.

Half torn between getting rid of the picture – maybe by burning it? – and keeping it, Mickey tore the page out of his sketchbook and shoved it into his _“Not entirely sure if I like it or not so I’ll just keep it”_ folder. He would deal with it when he went through and sorted all the other random pictures he was keeping in there.

In the meantime, he turned his attention back to a painting he had been working on of the God, Apollo, and frowned. He had been having a bit of trouble with the face, so he hadn’t really touched the painting for a few weeks. Now that he was looking at it, though, he realised he could sort that out pretty easily. He rounded the chin a little bit more and changed the nose slightly, but the general shape and features of the face looked like Red.

It was kind of creepy how Mickey had started doing this, actually. Jesus fucking Christ. Twenty minutes sitting across from him on the train, and suddenly Mickey was acting like some sort of love struck teenage girl – the kind that goes around writing _Mrs_ and whatever their crush’s last name is.

Like in _Shrek 2_? Mrs Fiona Charming? Was that where he was going with this? Only, he didn’t know what this guy’s name was, and _“Mr Mickey Hot-Train-Guy”_ didn’t have a great ring to it. Neither did _“Mr Mickey Red”_ , actually, though that was certainly more tolerable. But Mickey wasn’t drawing hearts around an amalgamation of their names, he was just immortalising the guy in fucking _paint._ Somehow that seemed creepier. Oh well. The likelihood of Train Guy ever seeing his paintings was close to zero, so he figured he was safe.

Was he going to stop painting him? Probably not. Mickey had found himself a muse, and he was damn well going to use it. Would it continue to make him feel like a complete and utter fucking stalker? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Hell yeah. Train Guy had one of the most elegant faces Mickey had ever seen. It was like he had actually been created by the Gods and dumped in front of him, so he could study every inch of him and paint him in everything he touched.

Okay, yeah. He was definitely verging on stalker. Maybe it would be polite to talk to him and maybe get to know him a little bit? So he wasn’t drawing a complete stranger? _Perfect. Great excuse._ And that meant he would be in closer range so he could map out those freckles he was sure he had seen.

Damn, what he wouldn’t give for a closer look at that guy’s face.

For art, obviously.

Mickey was startled out of his reverie by his phone going off loudly on the table in his living room. He washed his hands quickly to avoid staining his phone with paint, and picked it up to discover a text from Mandy.

_guess what_

 

Shit. That was never his favourite thing to receive from his sister. He narrowed his eyes accusingly at his phone, and replied.

_what_

_no asshole you’re meant to guess_

_i ain’t guessing what the fuck do u want_

_wow that’s a nice way to talk to ur sister. what crawled up ur butt and died?_

 

Mickey scowled. Nothing was up his butt, which might’ve been a contributing factor to his mood.

_fuck off. what do u want_

_i got reservations at your work~_

_car or food_

_food obviously_

_hah bitch u wish. u can’t afford that fancyass shit_

_i'm not paying ;)_

_ew do i have to watch some dude shove his tongue down ur throat the whole night_

_no! ian’s my best friend from high school. just found him living in NYC :)_

_u had a dude best friend? u never told me that_

_...i did actually. u just never listened to me._

_...oh_

_anyway we have reservations for 7pm tomorrow night. ur working yeah?_

_yeah_

_good. see u tomorrow! can’t wait! :)_

_yeah okay whatever_

 

Outstanding. The one thing Mickey loved more than serving asshole customers than serving _Mandy_ , because she knew how much he hated it, so she went out of her way to piss him off. And she would be having someone with her, who Mickey didn’t remember her ever mentioning. (Though she was right – he did have a tendency to zone out whenever she called him while she was still in Chicago, because a lot of what she said was whining about bitchy girls and he knew she would deal with them. Probably with a shiv.)

He _also_ knew that Mandy would’ve asked specifically to be seated in his section, so there was definitely no escaping her. Fuck it. He was head waiter, she was his sister, and if she was pissing him off, he would tell her. Maybe by adding a whole bunch of crap to the bill. If the guy Mandy was bringing was anything like the girls she knew in high school, he was probably a stereotypical dizzy blond who wouldn’t notice being charged for a few extra items – if he could afford to pay for himself and Mandy at Mickey’s restaurant, then he could probably afford the extra items. Unless Mandy was blackmailing this Ian guy into going to eat there?

Mickey wouldn’t put it past her, honestly.

 

* * *

 

Mickey felt like he was mentally preparing himself for the fiasco Mandy would start when he arrived at work. She would most likely make a few snide comments, but that was Mandy. Besides, he was out making money, and she wasn’t, so she could get fucked, really. He was getting paid to put up with her shit.

He got off the train and made his way to the restaurant, shoving his jacket and bag of stuff into his locker, so he could yank on his apron and tie it nicely. He checked the clock to see it was almost ten to seven, and made his way out onto the floor, scanning his section for Mandy.

Naturally, she had come earlier and gotten a table, no doubt through name dropping her brother. She was alone at the table, so maybe her date wasn’t here yet.

Mickey made his way to her, ignoring the calls and waving hands of a couple of tables with a short, ‘Not on the clock,’ and dismissive gesture. ‘Hey,’ he greeted, kicking his sister in the shin. ‘Date stand you up?’

‘No,’ Mandy replied, rolling her eyes and standing to give him a brief hug. ‘He’s in the bathroom.’

‘He’s not old and incontinent is he?’

‘No, he’s not “old and incontinent”. He’s my age, dumbass.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Never know with you.’

‘Ha-fucking-ha.’

Mickey grinned at her. ‘Gonna order anything?’

‘Not yet,’ Mandy said, shaking her head. ‘Ian just got here, so he hasn’t had the chance to look over the menu. Come back soon?’

‘Sure, I’ll be back with the specials,’ Mickey said, turning and making his way back to the kitchens to find out what they actually were for today. It took him all of about two minutes to memorise them, so he popped his head out and saw that Mandy was still at the table alone.

Mickey rolled his eyes and went back out anyway, because he still had about a minute before he was due to start work. ‘How fucking long does it take to do a piss?’ he asked, approaching Mandy’s table.

She shrugged. ‘Maybe there was a queue.’

‘Unlikely,’ Mickey said. ‘Maybe he’s taking a dump.’

‘Who’s taking a dump?’ a voice behind Mickey asked. ‘Sorry, had to take a call.’

‘No problem,’ Mandy smiled. ‘Mick, this is Ian. Ian, this is my brother, Mickey.’

Mickey turned to the seat behind him, and promptly forgot how to speak. He stared at Ian for a moment, before turning back to Mandy as though he needed an explanation for this guy’s presence.

Hot-Train-Guy was sitting with his sister. What the fuck?

Hot-Train-Guy – who was apparently called Ian – had a strange constipated look on his face.

Mandy flicked her eyes between them – Ian’s expression of horror, and Mickey’s “I think I might throw up” face – and laughed once. ‘What the Hell is up with you two? Have you met or something?’

‘Uhhh...’ Mickey offered. _No, I just fucking_ painted _him and went all_ “Mrs Fiona Charming” _on his ass._

‘Not as such,’ Ian murmured.                                                                                                          

 _Fuck, he had a nice voice._ Like velvet dripping in honey. Only... less gross sounding. ‘We... Train.’

‘You train together?’ Mandy asked. ‘Like at a gym or something?’

‘No, we take the same train,’ Ian corrected. ‘I suppose it’s nice to put a name to the face, Mickey.’

 _Ugh, fuck._ Mickey wanted to hear Hot-Train-Guy say his name again. ‘Right,’ Mickey agreed. Because it seemed like he couldn’t say anything that wasn’t one syllable words. ‘Nice.’

‘Nice.’

Mandy was watching them with some sort of twisted delight on her face, as she watched what was undoubtedly one of the most awkward things she had ever bore witness to.

Mickey nodded and turned around to go to the kitchen. He went straight to the locker room, and slammed his head into a wall a few times as reality set in.

He had a fledgling crush on his sister’s best friend? What the fuck? Was this what the World was the world coming to?

He had no idea, so his head met the wall again.

 

* * *

 

‘Mick, this is Ian. Ian, this is my brother, Mickey,’ Mandy introduced, as Ian sat down opposite her, behind her brother’s back.

Mickey turned around to face Ian, his expression becoming confused before he turned back to Mandy.

Ian quickly processed what had just happened. Phone Dude? Phone Dude was Mandy’s brother? Mandy’s very _straight_ brother? He had been having a staring contest with _Mandy’s straight brother?_ Oh _God_. He done fucked up. He done fucked up _hard._ Might as well dig a hole and go die in it, because Mickey obviously remembered him.

Mandy seemed amused by whatever was going on with them, because she let out a short laugh before asking, ‘What the Hell is up with you two? Have you met or something?’

‘Uhhh...’ Mickey said.

Ian regained his wits and said as calmly as he could, ‘Not as such.’

‘We... Train,’ Mickey explained, quite ineffectually.

‘You train together?’ Mandy asked incredulously. ‘Like at a gym or something?’

‘No, we take the same train,’ Ian expanded, remembering his manners. ‘I suppose it’s nice to put a name to the face, Mickey.’

‘Right,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘Nice.’

He sounded like he was about to either throw up or crap himself, and Ian didn’t know what that meant, so he repeated what Mickey had said. ‘Nice.’

Mandy was now smiling unrestrainedly, as she watched the exchange between the pair of them.

Mickey nodded and turned around to go to the kitchen, shooting Ian a strange look, before he disappeared from sight.

‘Okay,’ Mandy grinned. ‘What the fuck was that?’

Ian laughed awkwardly. ‘What was what? That was a completely casual conversation, Mandy.’

‘My ass that was casual! Did you guys have an awkward hook up or something? That train thing can’t be real.’

‘It is,’ _Wait._ ‘What do you mean “hook up”? He’s straight, isn’t he?’ Ian asked.

‘Um, no. That’s my gay brother. I told you I had one of those, right?’ Mandy said, arching an eyebrow at him across the table.

‘Did you?’

‘Fuck, does _no one_ listen to me when I talk?’ Mandy asked exasperatedly. ‘ _Yes,_ I told you.’

‘Oh.’

‘No, but seriously,’ Mandy leaned across the table conspiratorially. ‘What’s the deal with you two?’

Ian bit his lip. ‘Yesterday we were on the train and I ended up sitting across from him. He kept watching me over his phone, so I kind of maybe flirty smiled at him? And waved? And maybe winked at him as he got off the train?’ Ian groaned and slammed his head forward onto the table. He turned his head and stared up at Mandy. ‘Your brother is really cute, okay? Leave me the fuck alone.’

‘I didn’t say anything!’ Mandy protested. ‘You’re an adorable dork. Ask him out.’

‘No way. No fucking way,’ Ian shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Why not? Got a boyfriend?’

‘...I have a dog,’ Ian said lamely.

‘Are you dating your dog?’

‘No... But he gets jealous.’

‘My ass he does. Ask my brother out, asshole.’

‘Absolutely not.’

Mandy rolled her eyes and smiled to someone behind Ian. ‘Hey, douchebag.’

Mickey walked up to the side of the table and stared at Ian. ‘Wanna hear the specials, asshole?’

Ian blinked, not entirely sure what he’d done to deserve the “asshole” comment. ‘Um. Sure?’

‘Great. There’s this fish thing that sounds really disgusting, some pasta thing, an “artisanal garlic bread”, some random fucking soup and a cheesecake for desert,’ Mickey recited. He poised his pen over his notepad. ‘What would you like?’

Mandy giggled. ‘I’ll have the mystery pasta.’

Ian blinked again. ‘Uhhh...’

‘Steak?’ Mickey suggested. ‘The fish dish? Seafood chowder? I don’t have all night, man.’

‘Uhhh...’ Ian looked down to his menu and back up at Mickey. ‘Mystery pasta?’

‘Lovely. Drinks?’

‘Orange juice,’ Ian replied. ‘No pulp would be great.’

‘Sure. Mands?’

‘Beer is good.’

‘I’ll be right back with your drinks, then,’ Mickey said, flipping his notepad shut in a strangely aggressive manner, and stalking off to the kitchens.

Ian turned to Mandy in confusion. ‘What the fuck did I do?’

Mandy shrugged, watching her brother leave. ‘Understanding Mickey is an art, Ian. Even I’m not sure what the Hell is with him most of the time.’

‘That’s promising,’ Ian muttered, idly rearranging the salt and pepper shakers.

 

* * *

 

Mandy knew _exactly_ what was going on.

She had been witness to this kind of crap before, though granted, usually it wasn’t with people. Mickey was doing the “Maybe if I pretend like I really hate this thing, everyone will believe me!” act, and right now he really “didn’t like” Ian.

 _Ohohoho_. Did Mickey have a crush on Ian? After twenty minutes on a train? How adorable.

Mandy decided to keep this little tidbit of information to herself, though she definitely recognised this to be an absolutely golden opportunity to get two people together. Matchmaker Mandy was coming out to play.

In the meantime, she gave nothing away to Ian about what might be causing her brother’s behaviour and pretended she was as confused as he was.

She watched as Ian blushed profusely when Mickey came back with their drinks, and how Mickey seemed completely disinterested in everything Ian related. Damn, he’d gotten good at this game.

Mickey left again to go serve other tables, and as he went, Mandy said to Ian, ‘You know, me and my roommates are having a fancy dress party next weekend. You should come.’

Ian’s eyebrows shot up.‘Oh yeah? What’s the theme?’

Mandy grinned. ‘Questionable fashion choices.’

‘Questionable fashion choices?’ Ian asked. ‘What does that even mean? Surely everyone has different ideas of “questionable”?’

‘You saying that is very _questionable_.’ (Ian groaned at Mandy’s horrible pun, as she cackled happily.) ‘But yeah, just what you think it is. Velour tracksuits, sandals and socks, Crocs, denim on denim, clashing patterns... That sort of thing.’

Ian looked unconvinced. ‘I might have something on...’

‘You just don’t want to wear your embarrassing clothes, do you?’ Mandy leaned forward and grinned. ‘Mickey’s coming.’

‘You know what? I am free,’ Ian nodded eagerly. ‘Text me the details and I’ll be there.’

 _Bingo._ ‘Perfect.’ _Now to convince Mickey to go._

‘Douchebags,’ Mickey greeted, appearing from behind them. ‘Want some bread or some shit? Food should be here soon, so if you want any starters, now’s the time to order them.’

‘A bowl of French fries would be great,’ Mandy grinned.

Mickey rolled his eyes and trooped back off again. He came back a few minutes later with the bowl, and set it down in front of Ian. ‘What are your intentions towards my sister?’ he asked.

Ian, who had been taking a sip of his drink to avoid eye contact with Mickey, choked slightly, before gasping and clearing his throat. ‘My intentions?’

‘Yes, your intentions.’

‘Um,’ Ian looked to Mandy, but she put her hands up. _You’re on your own._ ‘I don’t have any? She’s my friend?’

‘Not gonna stick it in?’ Mickey pressed. ‘Don’t want her breeding with a redhead.’

Ian’s eyes widened, and Mandy grinned. ‘I’m not...I’m. I’m gay?’

It came out as a question, and Mandy started laughing as Ian looked to her for confirmation. ‘Yes, yes you are.’

Mickey bit his lip. ‘Oh.’

‘Problem?’ Ian asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Good.’

Mickey physically restrained himself from looking Ian up and down and turned and walked quickly away, because _shit_ , Ian was gay? Well, obviously. But he didn’t know Mickey was, too, right? Mandy wouldn’t tell him that, would she?

Well, yeah. She actually would. So maybe Ian did know? Better not take that chance and keep pretending he didn’t have a ridiculous crush on his sister’s friend. _Good idea, Mickey,_ he congratulated himself. _Brilliant tactics._

 

* * *

 

The rest of Ian and Mandy’s dinner passed relatively well. There were no more awkward moments between Ian and Mickey, because he was now directing all his questions to Mandy, and acting like Ian wasn’t there at all. Ian was half relieved, and half disappointed about that, and Mandy seemed completely disappointed that they weren’t talking now, because that seemed to have been her entertainment for the night.

After they left, Mickey’s night went smoothly, and he was thankful for that, because it felt like he was walking on a knife’s edge, tension wise. First customer to push Mickey’s buttons even a _little_ bit would be put directly in his place. The ground.

Mandy must’ve had magic powers, because she sent him a text literally as he was walking out the doors to the restaurant.

 

_hey i forgot to ask you something :)_

_you want more free food?_

_no... ;)_

_what then_

_me and sveta are having a fancy dress party next weekend. you wanna come?_

_nope_

_aw come on! it’s questionable fashion choices! you can laugh at everyone wearing crocs!_

_noooo_

_ian’s coming._

Mickey bit his lip and weighed his options. Seeing Ian again, or looking like an asshole? Well, he saw Ian on the train anyway, so he probably didn’t need to go. But Mandy was right. He did love laughing at people in Crocs. What if Ian showed up in Crocs? He might wet himself laughing. Decision made, Mickey replied.

 

_when did you say it was?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i don't have anything witty to say but i'm on tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	3. Highly Fucking Suspicious

‘So, this is kinda awkward, huh?’

Mickey looked up slowly from his phone to see Ian standing in front of him. ‘Awkward that you just approached me and called it awkward? Yeah.’

Ian grinned and sat in the empty seat beside Mickey. _Social etiquette be damned._ ‘So you’re Mandy’s brother?’

‘Wow, how the fuck you guess that, gingerbread?’ Mickey asked, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to his phone. _Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, don’t –_

‘Well it might’ve been the attitude, or the hair, or the eyes,’ Ian coughed. ‘Sorry. Ignore that last one.’

Mickey was silent as he tried to make another 128 tile in his game. If he talked to Ian too much, there was a distinct possibility that he would say something stupid like _“I painted you a couple of days ago,”_ or an absolute gem such as _“You have fucking magnificent bone structure.”_

‘Not much of a talker, huh?’ Ian sighed. ‘Sorry, I’ll just go back over –’

‘Don’t,’ Mickey mumbled, flicking his gaze back to Ian. ‘You’re my sister’s best friend, yeah?’

‘Yeah. Was. A few years ago.’

‘And the other day we...’ Mickey waved his hand in a vague motion.

Ian nodded. ‘You kept staring at me over your phone. I was afraid I was going to be mugged.’

‘Naw, man. Wasn’t gonna mug you. Don’t need to,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘I’m an artist. I was studying your... Fuck.’

‘My fuck?’ Ian asked, confusion entering his voice. ‘Wait, you were studying my _face_? For your art?’

‘No,’ Mickey said defensively. ‘What a fucking creepy thing to do.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian raised his eyebrow. ‘So you, what, drew me?’

‘Painted,’ he corrected automatically. _Fuck. Well done, Mickey._

‘You _painted_ me?’

‘...No.’

‘Oh wow, okay,’ Ian bit his lip and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Need a nude model sometime?’

Mickey blinked. ‘Are you flirting right now?’

‘Is it working?’

‘No.’

Ian grinned and turned away from Mickey to face forwards. ‘So you’re going to Mandy’s party this weekend, right?’

‘Mm,’ Mickey hummed, putting full effort back into his game. ‘Free booze, so I’m in.’

‘Going with the intention of getting smashed, huh?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Nope,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Screws with my meds.’

Mickey nodded like he knew what Ian was talking about. ‘I hope you enjoy drunk karaoke.’

‘Love it.’

Mickey cracked a smile. ‘So how did you actually meet my sister?’

‘School. Stopped a creepy teacher from getting his ins.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. She got a bit of a crush on me, and got offended when I didn’t wanna have sex with her. She ended up sending your brothers after me, and I had to tell her I was gay so they wouldn’t bash my head in,’ Ian sighed. ‘Good times.’

‘So you’re definitely gay?’ Mickey asked.

‘Is that all you got out of that story?’ Ian laughed. ‘Yeah. Definitely gay.’

‘Oh.’

‘Why’d you ask?’

‘Um... No reason.’

Ian wasn’t going to out him and say he knew about Mickey, because seriously? What an asshole move. So, he just nodded and decided to wait for Mickey to tell him, himself.

Mickey slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up as they pulled into a station. ‘This is my stop,’ he said. ‘I guess I’ll see you around.’

Ian nodded. ‘Definitely at Mandy’s on Saturday, if not before then.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey bit his lip and stared at him for a second before turning on his heel, and getting out of the train.

As he walked towards his apartment, Mickey was having a small internal crisis. He had just admitted to painting Ian – who seemed strangely okay with it? – and he had, in turn, offered to be a nude model? Surely he was joking. There was a part of Mickey that had wanted to jump right in there and say _“Fuck yeah, I need a nude model!”_ but luckily Mickey had been quick to suppress that. Quick to suppress everything, really, because he was totally lying when he said that the flirting wasn’t working. Something in his smile made Mickey think Ian knew it was working, anyway.

Why did the theme of Mandy’s party have to be “questionable fashion choices”? He didn’t want to turn up at Mandy’s house looking like a fucking idiot, especially not if Ian was going to be there. Seeing as he was trying (and failing) to downplay his dorky crush on Ian, he couldn’t ask Mandy what the least stupid outfits were either, which left him alone and up some sort of creek with no paddle.

Basically, he had three options.

First, he could be _that person_ who goes to a fancy dress party and looks like a dumbass for not following the theme. That might improve his chances with Ian, unless he was super into fancy dress parties, and therefore, he might lose some brownie points.

Secondly, he could wear every single fashion faux pas he could think of, and enlist Mandy to give him more ideas. _But,_ if he turned up at the party wearing a Croc on one foot, and sock and sandal on the other, as well as jeans and a jean jacket, plus a patterned turtle neck and a patterned waistcoat or something over the top, and maybe a trilby or something... Ian might think he was super into all this crap and loved fancy dress parties. Which he did _not_. He also might think he was a fucking idiot, and there would go his chances. (Or, because of the trilby, he might think Mickey would pull a rose out of nowhere, and start calling him “M’lady” and begin a dramatic monologue about nice guys finishing last, and seriously – fuck that for a joke.)

Third option was going in theme, but the most normal themed clothing he could find. Which would probably be what everyone else would be doing, right? Obviously. It seemed like the rational thing to do. However, that still left Mickey with the problem of finding something themed.

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

Ian had it totally sorted. He knew exactly what he was going to Mandy’s party in, so he got the required items together and did a test run. He got his laptop up and running, jumped on Skype, and opened a three-way video call between Lip, the Gallagher house, and himself.

Lip answered almost immediately, and the Gallagher household a few seconds later. After the initial greetings and catch up, Ian got their attention to explain the situation.

‘So, I’m going to a fancy dress party, where the theme is “questionable fashion choices” –’ Ian started.

‘How that must pain you,’ Lip sighed.

Ian shot him a look and flipped him off, before he continued. ‘Anyway, there’s gonna be a guy there that I sort of have a little bit of a crush on, and I don’t want to turn up looking like a dick, you know?’

‘If it’s questionable fashion choices, you’re probably all going to look a bit strange,’ Debbie pointed out, and Fiona nodded sagely, as Carl and Lip rolled their eyes. ‘So you should pretty much just put that out of your head.’

‘True,’ Ian agreed. ‘Still, I wanted to do a test run with you guys, just so I can gauge sort of how bad I actually look.’

‘ _Do_ you look bad?’ Fiona asked.

Ian grimaced. ‘Not great.’

‘You’re not wearing it now, are you? I like that shirt.’

‘No, I’m not. You guys go talk, and I’ll get changed. Radar can fill in for me,’ Ian said, picking his laptop up, and putting it in front of the sleeping German Shepherd. ‘Radar, stay.’

‘He’s sleeping, Ian,’ Debbie’s voice called, as Ian walked away to change. ‘He’s not going to _move_.’

‘Just in case, Debs!’ Ian replied. He quickly changed his clothing, taking his props with him, and moved the laptop onto the kitchen bench, scratching Radar’s ears before he moved away. ‘Okay, you guys ready?’ he asked, standing away from the laptop.

‘Go,’ his siblings chorused.

Ian stepped in view of the camera. ‘And these for shoes,’ he said, holding up a pair of trainers.

‘Oh my God,’ Lip said, bursting into laughter. ‘Are you serious, man?’

Ian nodded. ‘What do we think? Yay or nay?’

‘Abso-fucking-lutely,’ Lip nodded.

‘Ian, I think that is highly questionable,’ Fiona said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Do you want to impress this boy or scare him off?’

‘I want to _fff_... date him,’ Ian replied. ‘A lot. He’s cute.’

‘Well...’ Debbie said thoughtfully. ‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate your dedication to the cause.’

‘Carl?’ Ian asked. ‘You’ve been quiet.’

‘You want my opinion?’ Carl said, shaking his head. ‘You look so stupid right now.’

Ian grinned. ‘Perfect.’

 

* * *

 

‘Got your outfit sorted?’

‘That’s a loaded question,’ Mickey said, looking beside him to find Ian sitting there. Again. _Stupidly pretty gingerbread._ ‘What outfit?’

‘Mandy’s party?’ Ian asked. ‘I do.’

‘Good for you. No, I don’t.’

‘You should get onto it,’ Ian mused. ‘Also, you weren’t on the train yesterday?’

‘Don’t work Tuesdays,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘Oh.’

‘What’s your thing for Mandy’s?’ Mickey asked, hoping he could glean some information from him, and get some ideas.

‘Ah, now that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?’ Ian winked. ‘You have knuckle tattoos?’

Mickey reflexively shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘So?’

‘What do they say?’

‘What’s it to you?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Curious.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and held his hands out for Ian’s inspection. ‘Feel better?’

Ian smiled as he read the words. ‘If you haven’t got an outfit yet, you could use this to your advantage.’

Mickey frowned. ‘How the fuck do you suggest I do that?’

‘Well... You’re kinda grumpy and a bit withdrawn, and you have these tattoos. During the... phone incident, I thought you were gonna mug me,’ Ian poked Mickey’s tattoos. ‘You could work with it.’

 _Huh._ Kind of a half decent suggestion. ‘Interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ Ian asked, sounding amused. ‘Very interesting.’

They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey to Mickey’s station, and as he was standing to leave, he nodded in farewell to Ian. ‘See ya.’

‘Mm, bye,’ Ian smiled. ‘See you tomorrow, dear!’

Mickey turned back around and Ian thought he was about to get reprimanded for the “dear” comment, but was pleasantly surprised when Mickey just flipped him off and grinned as he walked off down the platform.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Ian wasn’t on the train. Mickey was sort of relieved he wouldn’t have to continue to feign disinterest in him, but was also a strange mixture of being pissed off and kinda sad about the whole thing. He didn’t have work tomorrow night, so he wouldn’t be seeing Ian again until Saturday at Mandy’s. When he was in dorky clothes.

Not that it would matter to Ian if he was in strange clothing or not, because Ian didn’t know that Mickey was gay, and quite probably didn’t want anything other than friendship from him, so perhaps it was for the best that Ian wasn’t on the train, because distance  and... stuff. What was that thing about absence making the heart grow fonder? Fuck that. Mickey needed to stop wondering about these things and get Ian the fuck out of his head. The faster Ian wasn’t in his every thought, the sooner he could get the fuck over his stupid crush and move on with his life.

Apparently it would be harder to do that than he thought it would, because Mickey spent his Friday night off sitting on his couch, a beer next to him, a pencil in his hand, and a spare tucked behind his ear, as he played music quietly though his laptop, and did a bit of sketching.

It started out as a suit of armour, and ended with Ian in it. Again.

 

* * *

 

‘Okay,’ Mandy said, adjusting her hair and turning to Svetlana behind her. ‘My brother is coming tonight, right?’

‘Right,’ Svetlana said slowly. ‘Why are you reminding me of this?’

‘My best friend from high school is coming too,’ Mandy said. ‘Both of them are completely gay and obviously crushing on each other.’

‘Okay...’

‘Mickey thinks Ian thinks he’s straight, but Ian _knows_ he’s not,’ Mandy said, gesticulating wildly. ‘Ian doesn’t want to ask Mickey out because he thinks Mickey will say no or something –’

‘And Mickey does not date,’ Svetlana nodded. ‘You want to get them together?’

‘How can you tell?’ Mandy grinned. ‘Not like, obviously shoving them together, just some... light persuasion.’

‘And you want my help, yes?’ Svetlana asked.

‘Please?’

Svetlana rolled her eyes. ‘I suppose.’

‘Thank you!’ Mandy squealed, throwing her arms around Svetlana’s shoulders. ‘You’re the best.’

‘I know.’

Mandy laughed and checked herself once more in the mirror, before turning back and going to the living area to wait for people to start arriving.

 

* * *

 

‘The fuck are you wearing?’ Mickey greeted, staring at his sister and Svetlana in the doorway to their apartment.

‘The fuck are _you_ wearing?’ Mandy frowned. ‘You’re wearing what you always do.’

‘Yeah, well. Ian said he thought I was gonna mug him so I think that suits your damn theme,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes.

‘You wanna borrow my t-shirt?’ Mandy asked.

‘Hell fucking no I don’t. Do I look like the sorta person who listens to Justin Beaver music?’

‘Bieber,’ Mandy corrected. ‘And we have some spare _Twilight_ shirts if you want one of those,’ she added, gesturing to the stretched image of a glittering Robert Pattinson emblazoned across Svetlana’s chest.

‘I think I’ll pass.’

‘Good choice,’ Svetlana muttered.

Mandy frowned at her friend. ‘You’re not supposed to encourage him, Lana.’

Svetlana shrugged and turned to go speak to a few people already floating around through the apartment.

‘You can dump your coat in my room, if you want,’ Mandy said. ‘The shirts are in there in case you change your mind!’

‘Un-fucking-likely!’ Mickey called back, weaving his way through the apartment towards Mandy’s bedroom. He hung his coat on the hook behind her door and stopped through the kitchen to get himself a beer. As he was leaving, he saw Mandy trail back into the main living area with Ian behind her. ‘Oh my God,’ he muttered.

Mandy pointed in the direction of where Mickey was standing, and Ian grinned as he walked towards him. ‘Hey,’ Ian greeted. ‘You weren’t on the train.’

‘Don’t work Friday nights. You weren’t there on Thursday,’ Mickey replied, staring at Ian’s shirt. ‘Man, what the fuck are you wearing?’

‘You like it?’ Ian asked, twirling. ‘I call it the “Brony Uniform”.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘The what.’

‘Bronies? Grown men or teenage boys – and girls, too, but they aren’t as creepy – who are kind of obsessed with _My Little Pony_. Which is why I’ve got the Rainbow Dash t-shirt, obviously.’

‘How is that a uniform?’

‘Got my sneans, a polar fleece jacket, and the t-shirt. Should’ve seen the dirty look the woman gave me when I asked if the store had any of them,’ Ian grinned. ‘Oh, and I got a trilby,’ he said, pointing at his head.

‘Ahh, the mark of the friendzone, huh?’ Mickey nodded. ‘Got a rose to go with that?’

‘I thought you’d never ask, m’lady,’ Ian said, pulling a fake white rose out from inside his jacket. ‘Nice guys finish last, and all that crap.’

‘Don’t do that. I don’t like that.’

‘Me either,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Mandy said there were some spare shirts that her and Lana bought for un-theme-y people in her room, but I’m not so sure I want to go down _that_ route tonight.’

‘Good call,’ Mickey nodded and looked around the room.

‘So what exactly about your clothing is questionable?’ Ian asked, strolling past him into the kitchen to get a cup of the pulp-less orange juice he had requested to Mandy.

‘The fact that I might mug you in them.’

‘Huh. Fair enough,’ Ian said. ‘I thought you looked a bit suspicious on the train.’

‘Suspicious? Man, it’s just what I look like. Meanwhile, there’s you,’ he said, gesturing at Ian’s shirt.

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, and your shirt. Your _highly_ fucking suspicious shirt.’

Ian grinned. ‘At least I’m in theme.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘You still look like a fucking idiot.’

‘A _highly fucking suspicious_ idiot.’

‘Not a good thing.’

‘You’re probably right.’

Mickey nodded. ‘I’m usually right.’

Ian nodded along, running his eyes over Mickey quickly, before the other man could catch on to what he was doing. Mickey looked good tonight, then again he had never looked _bad_ any of the (admittedly, few) times he had seen him. He was just in dark jeans and a button up, but he had rolled the sleeves of his shirt and that _obviously_ increased the attractiveness factor a few times over.

‘You need something? Lookin’ at me like you wanna eat me,’ he said, taking a sip of his beer.

Ian shrugged. ‘Might do later if you play your cards right.’

Ian expected to get some sort of rise out of Mickey, but instead of a flare up or straight out denial, he said, ‘Play _your_ cards right and I might let you.’

Ian’s jaw dropped slightly as Mickey winked at him, right as Mandy walked past, her hands full of beers. ‘You okay there, Ian?’ she asked, looking between them.

‘I’m fuck. Fine. I’m fine,’ he smiled in reassurance. ‘Totally fine.’

Mandy didn’t look convinced, but she rolled her eyes and left anyway, shooting them a suspicious glance from the living room.

‘So are you...’ Ian cleared his throat. ‘You know.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows. ‘You callin’ me gay?’

‘Depends if I’m right or not,’ Ian said, sipping his orange juice.

Mickey tilted his head. ‘Why does it matter to you?’

‘I think you’re cute.’

‘That all?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ Mickey said. ‘I’m more than cute, and I’m not even that. Give me something to work with here, man.’

‘Well, I wanna date you and maybe fuck you against a wall, and see your art and introduce you to my dog and my family and make you pancakes. I think you’re cute, and you have nice hair that looks really soft and I want to touch it and I want to touch _you_ because you’re cute, even when you look like you want to murder someone,’ Ian said. ‘It matters because I wanna know you, and I wanna date you. So, are you, or aren’t you?’ When Mickey put his bottle of beer down and started flexing his fingers, Ian had no idea what was going on, so he put down his orange juice, because something about this situation made him feel like he would need his hands.

Mickey’s eyes darted around quickly before he took the couple of steps to Ian, and reached up on his tip toes to pull Ian towards him. It was only a very short kiss, and Ian got the feeling that was mostly because they were in a pretty crowded space, but he could tell that there was something bubbling under the surface of Mickey’s skin that was making him hold back while they were here.

Mickey stepped back and picked up his beer like nothing had happened. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Feel better?’

‘Now I feel worse, actually,’ Ian murmured. ‘You wanna...’

‘Not now,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘If I leave, Mandy will figure it out.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘You understand that Mandy is trying to get us together, right.’

Mickey blinked. ‘Shit, is she?’

‘Um, yeah.’

‘Well, fuck,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m still not going. There’s beer here, and Mandy owes me beer.’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah, alright.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey’s heart was hammering wildly in his chest, beating hard against his sternum, and feeling like it might break through if he didn’t calm the fuck down. ‘You callin’ me gay?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. _Of course he is, fucknut._

‘Depends if I’m right or not,’ Ian replied, nonchalantly taking a sip of juice.

‘Why does it matter to you?’ he asked, tilting his head slightly.

‘I think you’re cute.’

 _Cute?_ ‘That all?’

‘What do you mean?’ Ian asked, eyebrows furrowing adorably.

‘I mean, I’m more than cute, and I’m not even that. Give me something to work with here, man.’ _Say something stupid so I won’t wanna kiss you._

‘Well, I wanna date you and maybe fuck you against a wall, and see your art and introduce you to my dog and my family and make you pancakes. I think you’re cute, and you have nice hair that looks really soft and I want to touch it and I want to touch _you_ because you’re cute, even when you look like you want to murder someone. It matters because I wanna know you, and I wanna date you,’ Ian said, looking at Mickey expectantly. ‘So, are you, or aren’t you?’

 _Shit, he used the word “date”._ Mickey put his beer down and flexed his fingers. Damn that stupid gingerbread boy, because now Mickey wanted him to do all those things. Be fucked against a wall, show Ian his art – probably including his stalker-y portraits, meet Ian’s dog, and family, and eat pancakes with him. Fuck. What an asshole for making him want that.

Mickey looked around to check no one was watching them, before he walked over to Ian and stood on his tip toes to reach up and kiss Ian gently. _Don’t go too far, don’t go too far._ As he pulled away, he realised that virgins had probably had less chaste kisses than that. Who gave a shit though, because at that moment, as Mickey released Ian’s lips and picked his beer up again, he was floating on a fucking cloud, and wanted nothing more than to make out with him in Mandy’s kitchen. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. _I’m gay and I want to date your stupid gingerbread ass._ ‘Feel better?’

‘Now I feel worse, actually. You wanna...’

 _God, yes._ ‘Not now,’ Mickey said, shaking his head. ‘If I leave, Mandy will figure it out.’

‘You understand that Mandy is trying to get us together, right?’ Ian asked, rolling his eyes.

Mickey blinked. ‘Shit, is she?’ _Course she fucking is._

‘Um, yeah.’

‘Well, fuck,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m still not going. There’s beer here, and Mandy owes me beer.’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah, alright.’

Mickey ignored the disappointment in his voice. ‘So what do you do?’

Ian’s face brightened, and Mickey thought he looked like a puppy. Actual puppy Ian... something. ‘I’m an editor.’

‘Like... book editor?’

Ian nodded happily. ‘Yeah. It’s pretty cool.’

‘Sounds riveting.’

‘It is!’ Ian agreed. ‘One day, someone will be reading _my_ manuscript, and not the other way around.’

‘You write stuff?’

‘Yup,’ Ian smiled. ‘You paint, I write.’

‘No shit, Sherlock.’

‘If I’m Sherlock, does that make you Watson?’ Ian asked.

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘No fucking way, man. Moriarty.’

Ian laughed. ‘You’re too short to be Moriarty.’

‘Fuck you,’ Mickey said, flipping him off. ‘I’m average height, you’re just freakishly fucking tall.’

‘The taller you are, the closer you are to God, and all that.’

‘Then your head must be practically up his ass right now.’

‘Yup, smells heavenly.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Great pun there.’

‘Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it.’

‘You should be,’ Mickey took another swig of his beer, finishing it off. He made a show of checking the time on his phone, before he yawned dramatically and said, ‘Well, I’m gonna go home. It’s getting late.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Ian said. ‘See you later.’

Mickey gave him a pointed look. ‘I’m going _home_.’

‘Okay – _oh_. Yeah, me too. I’m going to go find Mandy and say bye,’ Ian said, finishing off his orange juice.

‘Great, I’m going to get my coat.’

‘I’m also going to call a taxi,’ Ian said. ‘Train will probably take too long.’

Mickey bit his lip and smiled. ‘Probably.’

 

* * *

 

Mandy wasn’t stupid. She had been watching her brother and best friend interact since Ian’s arrival, and she was almost bursting with pride for Mickey making the first move. As they split apart, and Mickey checked his phone, before going off in the direction of her room, Mandy called Svetlana over.

‘What?’ the Russian woman asked. ‘What happened?’

‘Matchmaker Mandy is in the _house_ ,’ Mandy grinned.

‘Ian and Mickey?’

‘Yup.’

Svetlana seemed unimpressed. ‘A blind person could have seen they were going to get together.’

‘Don’t ruin my moment,’ Mandy pouted.

‘Oh, hey, Mandy,’ Ian’s voice said, the man himself appearing at her side from nowhere. ‘I’m gonna head home. Meds making me feel a bit drowsy.’

Mandy raised an eyebrow. ‘Uh huh.’

‘Thank you for inviting me, though. See you next week for lunch, still?’

‘Yup,’ Mandy said, giving him a brief hug. ‘Now run off. Don’t wanna keep my brother waiting.’

Ian grinned. ‘That’s why I called a taxi.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: in my experiences with bronies, they've all been fucking idiots, and some of the rudest, most disgusting people i have ever met. i'm sure there are probably some nice ones out there, but generalising - bronies are a no-go. same with "nice guys". girls (or anyone you're trying to guilt trip) don't owe you anything for treating us like humans, and that's pretty much that.
> 
> also, radar? i love radar. watch out for radar. everywhere. in everything. radar for president.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/>come%20see%20me%20on%20tumblr%20and%20give%20me%20your%20thoughts%20on%20this%20so%20far%20\(if%20you%20want\)%20\(don't%20feel%20pressured\)</a>)


	4. The Usage of Emergency Fruit Supplies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't read any of my stuff before, quick note to say that anything in italics is texting. not like during speech, but just the random chunks of italics. it should be obvious enough, but i'm way too lazy to do timestamps and stuff, so it's just a chunk of italics.

‘So...’ Ian started, staring up at the ceiling above his head. ‘That, um. Yeah.’

‘Eloquently put, gingerbread. You a poet or something?’ Mickey asked, also pointedly avoiding eye contact.  

‘Sometimes,’ Ian grinned. ‘I don't know what I was expecting, but I'm honestly feeling kind of alarmed right now.’

‘You what?’

‘I'm sorry about the um. Teeth,’ Ian cleared his throat and gestured at the bruise on Mickey's shoulder. ‘And that thing we did with –’

‘Please don't go into detail,’ Mickey groaned. ‘I was there, I don't need a highlights reel.’

‘Highlights?’ Ian raised his eyebrows and poked Mickey in the ribs. ‘I'll remember that for next time.’

Mickey didn’t respond and didn’t look at him, so Ian thought he might've overstepped a boundary by assuming this would happen again.  

‘Hey,’ Ian said, deciding to break the awkward tension. ‘Wanna hear a joke?’

‘Why the fuck not.’

‘Why did Sally fall off the swing?’

‘I don't know, Ian. Why  _did_  Sally fall off the swing?’

Ian grinned. ‘Because she had no arms. Knock knock.’

‘Who's there?’ Mickey asked, his tone amused.  

‘Not Sally!’ Ian said, bursting into laughter at his own joke and feeling better when Mickey joined him.  

‘You wanna hear a joke now?’ Mickey asked, once they had both calmed down. 

‘Sure, give it to me.’

‘Why did the boy fall off his bike?’ Mickey bit his lip as he glanced over at Ian, and bumped their knees together under the sheets.

Ian looked thoughtful for a few moments. ‘Did he have no arms either?’

Mickey burst into a grin. ‘No, he got hit by a refrigerator!’

‘Oh my God,’ Ian spluttered between laughs. ‘You have such a twisted sense of humour.’

‘Says the guy who told a double joke about a kid with no arms!’ Mickey protested.

‘Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing,’ Ian said, regaining control of himself to roll over and smile at Mickey. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked at him curiously.

‘Why you staring at me like that?’ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

‘I like you like this,’ Ian said, reaching behind himself to pull the blankets over his bare ass, which was beginning to feel quite cold. ‘You’re all relaxed and happy.’

‘So?’

‘It suits you,’ Ian paused. ‘Actually, so does your grumpiness. But I like this better.’

‘Uh huh.’

Ian made some popping noises with his mouth before asking, ‘Do you want me to go?’

Mickey frowned. ‘I ain’t gonna make you stay if you don’t wanna.’

‘Would it be okay if I did?’

‘Do what you want, man. None of that spooning shit, though. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ Ian nodded. He dropped down from his elbow and rolled onto his back, tucking one hand under his head and using the other to pull the blankets up over his chest.

They lay in silence for a while, and Ian thought Mickey had gone to sleep, until he heard the dark haired man ask quietly, ‘Did you mean it?’

‘Hmm?’ Ian asked, turning his head towards Mickey. ‘Did I mean what?’

‘What you said earlier.’

‘I said a lot of things earlier. You need to be more specific.’

‘You wanna date me,’ Mickey whispered. ‘Because you’ve already fucked me against a wall and you can make me pancakes tomorrow, but do you really want to?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian smiled, even though he knew Mickey couldn’t see it. ‘And not just because I think you’re cute. I want to know things about you.’

‘Why?’ Mickey asked, turning over to face him. ‘I’m not interesting, or special.’

‘You’re not meant to ruin the surprise, Mick.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I’m serious though. I want to know you.’

‘And date me.’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t date,’ Mickey said, turning back onto his side and away from Ian.

Ian sighed. ‘Maybe. But there’s an exception to every rule, right?’

‘What makes you think you’re the exception?’

‘You’re letting me stay here.’

Mickey tensed slightly, like he had forgotten he had agreed to that. ‘Don’t mean nothing.’

‘Maybe it doesn’t,’ Ian agreed. ‘Maybe it does. I’m hoping for the latter.’

‘Good for you.’

‘Look, I’m getting really mixed signals right now. Do you _want_ to date me? Or should I just go? Because I’m in if you are.’

Mickey was quiet for a few minutes, and it seemed to Ian like he was having an internal debate. ‘Are you sure?’ Mickey asked. ‘Like, _really_ sure?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘Really, _really_ sure.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey said, drawing the blankets closer around himself. ‘Can I sleep now?’

‘Of course, sorry,’ Ian bit his lip. _Push his luck? Why not._ ‘So if we’re, like, _dating_ or something, does that mean there can be spooning?’

‘You’re a fucking dork,’ Mickey replied, by way of an answer.

‘That a yes?’ Ian asked hopefully.

‘Yeah, alright, gingerbread. Get your pale ass over here. It’s freezing.’

‘Is that your excuse, huh?’

‘Fuck off, you wanted to do this spooning thing. Are you complaining now?’ Mickey asked, feeling Ian’s long arms wrap around his middle.

‘Nope,’ Ian buried his face in the junction between Mickey’s neck and shoulder.

‘Get your fucking icicle face outta my warmth,’ Mickey complained.

‘Where else am I supposed to put it?’

‘In a fucking pillow,’ Mickey grumbled, wiggling his way further under the blankets.

‘And suffocate?’ Ian asked. ‘You want me to _suffocate_?’

‘Don’t be dramatic, princess. You can’t suffocate yourself. Your brain’s survival instincts kick in and make you go up for air. Same as drowning yourself without an anchor,’ he murmured.

‘Um. Okay. Or I could just pull the blankets over our heads and make an igloo?’

‘Whatever makes you feel better.’

‘Great!’ Ian pulled the covers up and snuggled closer to Mickey. ‘Night, Mick.’

‘Mhmm.’

 

* * *

 

When Mickey had said to Ian that he wanted him to make pancakes the next day, he hadn’t actually been expecting him to _do_ it. And yet, here they were. Sitting at Mickey’s little table, with a plate of pancakes Ian had made in the middle of the table, and a selection of toppings he had prepared sitting beside them. Ian had even figured out how to use Mickey’s coffee maker, so there was a pot of that with them, too.

Ian was artfully arranging slices of banana (did Mickey actually have those in his apartment? Though he wouldn’t be surprised if Ian turned out to be the kind of guy that carried “emergency fruit supplies”) and pouring maple syrup over the entire thing.

Mickey watched him with a weird kind of fascination as he picked up the entire pancake and bit into it. The syrup dribbled down his chin, and Ian seemed to give absolutely not one single shit about the whole thing. ‘You have a little something on your face.’

Ian shrugged. ‘I’ll live.’

 _Well, I might spontaneously combust, but hey,_ you’ll _be alright!_ ‘Great.’

‘Is it annoying you?’

‘Why the fuck would it annoy me?’

Ian winked and continued dismantling his masterpiece with all the grace and dignity of a three day old goat. ‘I think you know why.’

Mickey blinked. _Asshole._ ‘Question.’

‘Mm?’

‘What the fuck is your last name?’Mickey asked, suddenly put off his food and weirdly turned on by the scene in front of him.

‘Did I not tell you?’

‘No?’

‘Huh,’ Ian swallowed and wiped the syrup from his chin with the back of his hand. ‘Gallagher.’

‘Gallagher?’ Mickey frowned. _That sounds familiar._ ‘You’re Southside, right? Have I met you before?’

‘Nah. Might know my brother, Lip?’

‘Holy fuck. Lip Gallagher? You’re Lip’s brother? That skinny ginger kid?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Not anymore.’

‘Yeah, no, I know not anymore,’ Mickey sat back in his chair and studied Ian’s face. Not for art, but to see if he could find any semblance to the kid he remembered seeing around with Mandy before he left Chicago. ‘Well, shit.’

‘Yeah. Puberty worked out pretty great for me,’ Ian grinned.

‘Hell yeah, it did,’ Mickey murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. He watched as Ian finished off the remaining pancakes, and took all the dishes into the kitchen. He might’ve shamelessly checked Ian out as he went, but that was entirely his business.

‘I gotta go soon,’ Ian said, sitting down at the table to drink his own coffee. ‘Gotta take my dog out.’

‘What kind you got?’

‘German Shepherd,’ Ian smiled. ‘You got Snapchat? I’ll send you pictures.’

‘Oh, Jesus, are you that person that sends everyone selfies with their dog?’ Mickey asked, kicking him lightly under the table.

‘Um, yes,’ Ian said, kicking back. ‘What dog owner doesn’t? What _pet_ owner doesn’t?’

‘I had a cat once,’ Mickey mused.

‘Send any selfies?’

‘Selfies weren’t a thing, and my phone didn’t have a camera. I didn’t even _have_ my own phone.’

‘Neither,’ Ian said, fiddling with his cell for a few seconds. ‘What’s your username?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and held his hand out for the phone. Ian passed it over and Mickey typed in his Snapchat username, before passing it back to him. ‘I dare you to try and pronounce it.’

Ian looked at the screen and frowned. ‘Mickey isn’t short for Michael?’

‘Technically no, but also yes.’

‘What does that even mean?’

‘Mikhailo is the Ukrainian form of Michael,’ Mickey explained. ‘So technically it is and isn’t short for Michael.’

‘Right,’ Ian blinked and looked up from his phone. ‘You’re Ukrainian?’

‘Mm.’

‘Does that mean Mandy is, too?’

‘Well, we are related.’

‘Huh,’ Ian stood up from the table and dropped his cup off in the kitchen. ‘I’ll get dressed then be off.’

‘Sure,’ Mickey yawned. _Too fucking early._

Ian came out a couple of seconds later, still only in his jeans. ‘You have a shirt I can borrow? I really don’t want to go home in this one,’ he said, holding up the offending _My Little Pony_ shirt.

Mickey grinned. ‘Yeah, sure. Whatever you can find that’s clean.’

‘Great, thanks,’ Ian smiled, ducking back into Mickey’s room. He re-emerged fully dressed, and gestured at his shirt. ‘This one okay?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ Mickey said, not actually paying attention to what he was wearing. ‘Say hi to your dog for me.’

‘I will,’ Ian said, darting over to him quickly to press a kiss against his hair. ‘I’ll talk to you later!’ he called, leaving through Mickey’s front door.

Mickey saluted him as he shut it, and said to the open air. ‘Kay, bye, Gallagher.’

 

* * *

 

As promised, Mickey started receiving Snapchats from Ian. He got about three selfies of Ian and a large German Shepherd, which, apparently, was only ten months old, so he hadn’t stopped growing yet, but to Mickey, he already looked fairly large. Or maybe that was the camera lens skewing the picture. Unlikely. Ian’s head looked at huge as ever.

Then Mickey got a mirror selfie of Ian and his dog _“ready for a run!”_ which made Mickey feel guilty about not having been to a gym in, oh, forever. He was sure that Ian was doing enough exercise for the both of them, so he felt less bad about the whole thing.

Mickey decided to venture into his studio, so he chucked a shirt on, shoved his phone unceremoniously into the speakers and opened the Spotify app. Soon, the soothing sounds of _America’s Suitehearts_ was blasting through his apartment as he turned to find himself a blank canvas amongst the rack of half completed paintings that was pushed up against one wall. He pulled out his reference pictures, made up his paint palette, and got to work.

He had never painted in this sort of style before, and had been messing around with it over the past few days when he had time, but it felt like right now was a good time to start painting, whatever the fucked up consequences might be. He probably wasn’t doing any particular justice to the dragons of Chinese mythology with this picture, and the fact that this was turning out to be looking like some weird, demented snake instead of the awesome dragon he wanted was proof of that.

Mickey sighed and put his brush down, so he could stare critically at the picture. ‘It looks like shit,’ he said loudly. ‘Absolute shit.’

He shook his head and grabbed his phone to open the Snapchat app. He took a picture of his... thing, and sent it to Ian with the caption _“i done fucked this up”_.

He debated trashing it, but decided to just leave it there to dry, before he could dump it in his rack full of other unfinished or shitty paintings. Probably should’ve practiced with the style a bit longer. Or a _lot_ longer. Christ on a bike.

He scowled accusingly at the traitorous piece of art and went to have a shower. Hopefully that would go as it was supposed to.

 

* * *

 

Radar was lying on his bed opposite the front door when Ian arrived home to his apartment. It was like finding a parent sitting and waiting for a teenager to return home from a late night romp around in the bushes, doing a bit of touchy feely crap. Not that Ian had ever had that happen to him, seeing as his parents didn’t give a shit, and Fiona had enough on her plate to deal with, most of which was considerably more pressing than Ian staying out past his non-existent curfew.

Also, Ian highly doubted that parents would be quite as enthusiastic to see their prodigal child return from their awkward sexual encounters.

Radar barked once, before bounding over to Ian and thwacking his tail into Ian’s legs, and looking up at him happily, craning his neck as he tried to sniff the weirdass scent Ian was toting around on this strange new shirt.

‘Hey, bud,’ Ian murmured, bending down and scratching Radar’s ears. ‘Guess who got laid last night?’ He started walking to his kitchen, hearing Radar’s paws thump against the floor, and got down Radar’s treat jar. ‘Ian gets laid, Radar gets treats.’

Radar sat at Ian’s feet and waved a paw at him, eyeing up the jerky thing in Ian’s hand.

‘Yeah, thought you might like that arrangement,’ Ian said, shaking Radar’s paw, and giving him the treat. He watched his dog trot dutifully over to his bed and lie down to gnaw on his jerky.

Ian rolled his eyes and temporarily debated having a shower, before deciding to take Radar out for a run soon, and he would need a shower after that, anyway, so a shower would be pointless.

He went to his room and shed the fleece jacket and sneans in place of a pair of track pants. He tossed the trilby hat somewhere into a corner to be discovered again in a few months. Probably by Radar.

While he waited for his dog to finish off his treat, Ian turned his laptop on, and checked his emails. Nothing particularly exciting, just a bunch of newsletters from places he had accidentally signed up to (which he should really unsubscribe from, but honestly just couldn’t be bothered doing), and an email from Lip about his travel dates to New York to do something or present a lecture or new robot or something, because apparently he was staying for a few extra days, so Ian needed to make sure he had enough beer to accommodate him.

Ian replied quickly, something along the lines of: _“Thanks for giving me a choice in this. I’ll see you and your new toy when you get here. And you can buy your own fucking beer.”_ Seriously, it was enough to have Lip staying here, but Ian was not going to go overly out of his way to indulge his brother’s drinking habits. Besides, there was probably a bar around somewhere he could go to.

Ian flicked his eyes over to Radar’s bed to see his dog had finished off the majority of his treat, and was apparently taking a bit of care to eat all of it, with the exception of a tiny piece, which he put in front of the stuffed toy dog that Ian had got him when he was still a puppy. Ian had heard that giving puppies a toy to sleep with made them feel less lonely, especially if they came from a big litter and were used to sleeping against something else. It had helped with Radar, and he still treated the toy with the utmost respect, only chewing lightly on one particular ear, and always leaving a little bit of his treats in front of it.

Ian had to admit, it was ridiculously cute how he did that.

‘Radar?’ Ian asked, watching as his dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. ‘Wanna go for a walk?’

Radar leapt to his feet and trotted over to Ian. He jumped up onto the couch, shoved his snout right into Ian’s face, and stood on him with one foot, as he made impatient whining noises.

‘I’ll go get ready, and we can be off in a minute or two, okay? Yeah? Walkies for Radar and Ian?’

Radar barked and jumped off the couch to run around the table and return to in front of Ian. He barked again, and Ian rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, okay. Point taken. C’mere,’ Ian patted the couch beside him and Radar jumped up again. Ian took a bunch of selfies and sent them off to Mickey through Snapchat. ‘ _Now_ we’ll go for walkies.’

Ian got off his couch, changed quickly into his running gear, and got Radar into his harness, leash clipped on. ‘One second, okay?’ he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tugged Radar over to the full length mirror next to his door. He opened Snapchat again, took another selfie, and sent it to Mickey with the caption, _“ready for a run!”_

Ian put his phone back into his pocket (which, thankfully, had a zip that turned out to be very convenient for when he went out running), and left his apartment. He was glad he lived relatively close to the park, because God knows how much Radar loved the park. It seemed he was happier to be there than Ian – which he most likely was – but Ian was glad to be out and running. He hadn’t really _run_ recently, just walked, so it felt good to have a bit of a breeze going through his hair.

 

* * *

 

_hey assface!_

_what do you want mandy_

_how’d it go with ian last night? ;)_

_fuck off_

_aw mick! come on! give me some details!_

_no fuck off_

_ian’s already told me everything that happened._

_oh yeah i’m sure he was just dying to tell u about how we went like three rounds and he was really giving it to me, huh?_

_oh my god u did the dirty?! i don’t need to hear about how my brother and best friend went at it!_

_yeah exactly. be careful what u wish for._

_well if we’re wishing for stuff then i want a puppy_

_i’m not getting u a puppy_

_aw :(_

_seriously what did u want_

_help cleaning my apartment?_

_nope. i left and got laid. i wasn’t there for ur shitshow so i don’t needa clean it._

_ian's here._

_no he’s not he went for a run._

_fuck. i was hoping that would work._

_yeah well it didn’t. have fun cleaning._

_fuck u :) u like him then?_

_ian? yeah i suppose. he's cute for a redhead or whatever._

_aw. precious :’)_

_fuck off._

 

* * *

 

Ian wasn’t exactly sure how it happened. He had been running, right, and had somehow managed to find himself at Mickey’s building. Weird. As he walked in through the lobby and up to the elevator for Mickey’s floor, he wondered idly if the building even allowed dogs. Too late now. Besides, it wasn’t like he was moving in with Radar.

Once he got up to Mickey’s floor, he tugged Radar over to Mickey’s door and knocked a few times. People coming down the corridor gave Ian a few dirty looks – shit, maybe this building didn’t allow dogs after all? – and he started knockng more insistently.

‘Fucking Christ, I’m _coming_!’ Mickey yelled from inside the apartment. ‘Fuck do you –’ he swung the door open and stopped his yelling abruptly. ‘Gallagher? What are you doing here?’

‘Well, we were out for a run and I sort of ended up here,’ Ian said, twisting Radar’s leash in his hands. ‘Can we come in?’

‘We?’ Mickey asked. He looked down from Ian’s face to the leash in his hands and the dog it was hooked up to. ‘Oh. Yeah, come in.’

Ian smiled and nudged Radar to go inside. He let his dog off the leash, and watched as he trotted over to Mickey and sat at his feet. Ian bit back a laugh. ‘He wants you to pat him.’

Mickey looked down to Radar then back up to Ian. ‘He’s not gonna bite or something?’

Ian shook his head. ‘If he was going to, he probably would’ve by now. He likes having his ears scratched, by the way.’

Mickey looked hesitantly at the dog again, before he scratched lightly at his ears . ‘Aw, you’re kinda cute, I suppose.’

‘Not really a fan of dogs, huh?’ Ian asked, watching as Radar’s tail began whacking happily against the floor.

‘I love dogs, actually,’ Mickey said. ‘I just don’t trust ‘em until I know ‘em, you know?’

Ian nodded. ‘Right. He’s a big softie, don’t worry about him.’

Mickey smiled down at the dog. ‘Yeah, alright. What’s his name?’

‘Radar.’

‘Why would you call him Radar?’

Ian shrugged. ‘He looks out for me. He makes sure I don’t get involved with assholes, seeing as his judge of character is a shitload better than mine.’

‘And he seems to like me, so I’m guessing that’s a good thing?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian nodded. ‘Sorry to just barge in like this. Um, do you have like a large bowl or a pot or something I could put some water in for him?’

‘Should be something in the cupboard under the sink,’ Mickey waved his hand distractedly in the direction of the kitchen. He crouched down next to Radar and started making weird cooing noises as he stroked his back and ears.

Ian rolled his eyes and went off to Mickey’s kitchen to find a bowl or something. He settled on a sizeable blue plastic bowl and filled it with water. He set it down on the floor of Mickey’s kitchen and said, ‘C’mere, bud.’ Ian heard Radar walk over to him and a noise of protest from Mickey in the living room.

‘That was really rude,’ Mickey called. ‘Oh, you left your brony rose here last night...’

Ian smiled. ‘You keep it.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll go out and buy a little vase for it, and keep your flower in my bedroom to look at when I miss you.’

‘You miss me?’ Ian asked in amusement.

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘No.’

‘The lady doth protesteth too much, methinks,’ Ian grinned. ‘So, what were you doing before I arrived with my dehydrated dog?’

‘Painting,’ Mickey waved his hand dismissively towards the door to his spare room-come-studio.

‘Oh, that’s right. You sent me a Snapchat,’ Ian nodded. ‘Didn’t look so horrible to me.’

‘Yeah, well. Compared to what it was _supposed_ to look like, it looks like a pile of shit.’

‘You know, there was an artist who canned his crap and sold it to galleries and stuff.’

‘Your point?’

‘Even crap is worth something.’

‘I don’t think my art shitty enough for that,’ Mickey mused.

Ian grinned. ‘Good pun.’

‘Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it,’ Mickey said, mocking Ian’s voice from the night before.

‘Jesus,’ Ian murmured, shaking his head. ‘I feel like we’re basing this... thing entirely on puns.’

‘What thing?’ Mickey asked, unsubtly leaning down to continue patting Radar, as the dog lapped up the water.

‘Our thing. Are we dating? Are we just fuck buddies? Are we, I don’t know... awkwardly going to start avoiding each other or something?’

Mickey blinked. ‘I’m not going to avoid you. Are you going to avoid me?’

‘Well, I don’t want to...’ Ian replied, chewing his lip.

Mickey frowned. ‘Why are we even having this conversation? You realise we literally discussed this last night right?’

Ian blinked. ‘Oh.’

‘You remember?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded sheepishly. ‘Um, do you mind if I just ask you again?’

‘Uh...’

‘Mickey, do you wanna go out with me?’ Ian asked. ‘Maybe for lunch tomorrow, or something?’

‘Yes, Jesus,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Feel better now?’

‘Yup. Officially going out, then? Dating, whatever?’

‘Apparently.’

Ian smiled. ‘Good. Oh, um. I don’t have your number.’

Mickey yanked his phone out of his pocket and opened up a new contact. ‘Chuck yourself in,’ he said, handing his phone to Ian.

Ian typed his name in, adding a sunglasses wearing emoji after his name. ‘There,’ he said, tossing the phone back. ‘Text me and I’ll save your number.’

Ian’s phone buzzed a few seconds later from an unknown number, and opened it to find a text that said, _“ur a fuckin dork”_. He smiled and saved the number to his phone, putting a little snowman emoji after Mickey’s name.

He sent a text back, and watched Mickey raise his eyebrows at the single emoji he replied with.

‘Is that thing blowing a kiss at me?’ Mickey asked.

‘Yup.’

Mickey bit his lip as he thought about it. ‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Okay.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the jokes at the beginning of this chapter come courtesy of my best friend. they literally make me cry every time.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/>come%20see%20me%20on%20tumblr%20if%20u%20wanna~</a>)


	5. How to Keep a Boyfriend in Two Easy Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Hint: You make him one of his favourite foods, then don't give him your recipe.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this took a bit longer than usual. and it's shorter than previous chapters. whoops. #procrastination

_happy monday! are we still on for lunch today?_

_hi to u too. i'm working at the garage today but i have my lunch break around 1_

_okay :) where’s the garage? i'll meet u there_

_just down from my apartment_

_cool! see you at 1ish then :)_

_hey gallagher?_

_yeah?_

_i'm not out to them so can u..._

_pretend to be just ur friend? if u want_

_thanks_

_no prob. not gonna out u babe :)_

_babe?_

_is that okay?_

_...idk_

_not yet?_

_not yet._

_okay. see u at 1 xx_

Mickey rolled his eyes and smiled down at his phone, before he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket hanging inside his locker.

‘What’s got you so happy?’ Max, one of the other mechanics, asked.

‘Nothing,’ Mickey replied.

‘Uh huh,’ Max smiled. ‘Your girl texting you or something?’

‘Don’t got a girl.’

‘ _Sure_ you don’t.’

‘Man, mind your own fucking business,’ Mickey said, flipping him off, as he shut his locker and went off into the garage.

He was directed by Andy towards a car needing the entire engine to be taken apart and cleaned, which should happily tide him over for a few hours until Gallagher would be arriving to take Mickey on their possibly-an-actual-date. Well, take him out for lunch, at least.

He hummed along with the music playing through the beat up old stereo in the corner of the garage, as he tinkered with the bits and pieces of the cars. Time seemed to pass faster than he expected it to, because soon enough, Cody from the front desk was knocking on the glass between reception and the workshop to get his attention.

‘Mickey, it’s your break!’ Cody called, somewhat ineffectually, as the glass got in the way of clear communication.

Mickey checked the clock and sure enough, it said it was just after one p.m. _Huh._ He wiped his hands on a rag, and trooped through the workshop to reception and on to the lockers.

‘Hey, Mickey,’ a voice said quietly, as he walked past the reception desk.

Mickey stopped and backtracked a few steps. Ian was sitting in one of the overstuffed armchairs, doing something on his phone. ‘Are you early or am I late?’

‘I’m early. Got here about ten minutes ago.’

Mickey turned to stare accusingly at Cody. ‘You could’ve got me in ten minutes ago, asshole.’

Cody shrugged. ‘Yeah, but I didn’t.’

‘Great, thanks,’ Mickey said, turning back to Ian. ‘I’ll grab my stuff and be right back.’

‘Take your time. A couple of minutes won’t kill me,’ Ian smiled.

‘So, what’s the deal between you two?’ Cody asked, watching as Mickey went off to the locker room.

‘Hmm?’ Ian asked, finishing off his email and sending it.

‘You and Mickey,’ Cody said slowly. ‘What’s the deal?’

‘We’re good friends,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I dated his little sister a few years ago.’

‘You’re friends with the big brother of your ex?’ Cody asked incredulously. ‘Dude, that’s weird.’

‘How is that weird? We hit it off.’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt you hit _something_ ,’ Cody winked.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You hit that, didn’t you? Man, I been trying to do that for the better part of three and a half years.’

‘Yeah? Good luck with that.’

‘Ready to go, Gallagher?’ Mickey asked, arriving back from the staff lockers.

‘Mhmm,’ Ian said, standing and straightening his coat. He turned back to Cody, to see him staring wistfully after Mickey. ‘Nice to meet you..?’

‘Cody,’ he sighed. ‘You too... Gallagher?’

‘Ian.’

‘Oh.’

Mickey looked between them and rolled his eyes. ‘Well, when you’ve finished your staring contest, can we fucking go?’

‘Right, of course,’ Ian said, narrowing his eyes as he turned to usher Mickey through the reception doors and out onto the street. ‘You know he has a massive hard on for you?’

‘Think I’m stupid?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘He’s not subtle. He’s like a fucking Mac truck hitting you side on.’

Ian raised his eyebrows right back. ‘So there’s nothing between you two?’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey replied, poking him in the ribs. ‘You’re the only dork with a chance.’

‘Aw,’ Ian smiled. ‘Wait, did you call me a dork?’

‘You are a dork.’

‘A dork is a whale penis,’ Ian mused.

Mickey huffed in amusement. ‘Then not only _are_ you a dork, you also _have_ one.’

‘Was that supposed to be a compliment?’

‘Who fucking knows. What’s for lunch?’

‘No idea. Any recommendations?’

‘There’s a deli down the street that does good bagels?’

‘Love me a bagel,’ Ian agreed.

‘You only like it because there’s a hole in it,’ Mickey said before he could stop himself.

Ian nodded thoughtfully. ‘True. I like jamming bits of myself into holes not meant to accommodate me.’

Mickey glanced sideways at him. ‘If things weren’t meant to go up a dude’s ass, there wouldn’t be that spot... thing.’

‘Prostate?’ Ian offered.

‘That.’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘So does this count as a first date?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Does a decent fuck not count as a date? Or only as, y’know, a fuck.’

‘Well, maybe breakfast counted as the first date?’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Mickey said, entering the deli and pointing at a couple of bagels. ‘You gonna pay or do you want me to?’

Ian shook his head and passed the cashier a couple of bills. ‘I asked, I’ll pay.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘I’ll get the next one.’

‘Only if you ask,’ Ian said, waving the change back to the cashier. ‘Keep it.’

Mickey took the food and nodded in thanks to the girl, as he and Ian left the shop. ‘Fine.’

‘Fine, what?’

‘Free tomorrow?’ Mickey asked, passing one of the bagels to Ian.

‘Tomorrow when?’

‘Dinner?’

‘You want to buy me dinner?’ Ian asked, surprised. ‘Sure.’

Mickey rolled his eyes at Ian’s enthusiasm. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, gingerbread. It’ll probably only be take out.’

‘Awesome. I love pizza.’

‘Meatlovers, yeah?’

‘Definitely a meatlover right here,’ Ian grinned.

Mickey stared at him in wonder for a few seconds, as he pondered how he managed to find such a strange guy. ‘Definitely.’

 

* * *

 

It didn’t feel awkward. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to feel awkward at all, but to Mickey, sitting with Ian on his couch, a half eaten pizza in front of them, it felt like this was right. Like this was what he was meant to be doing with his life. But this was only their third date (they decided that the pancakes officially counted as date one) and Mickey was already pondering the possibility of spending the rest of his life with this dorky gingerbread boy. _Must not say that under any circumstances._

‘What are you thinking about?’ Ian asked, his clear voice breaking through Mickey’s thoughts.

 _Shit._ ‘What makes you think I’m thinking?’

‘I asked you a question about four times and you didn’t answer. Also you’ve been staring at that bit of pizza for almost two minutes,’ Ian said, as he raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Nothing,’ Mickey said, biting into his piece of pizza.

‘Uh huh. You know, we’re dating, and lies aren’t great for relationships.’

‘Seriously, it’s nothing,’ Mickey said, totally unconvincingly.

‘Is it that embarrassing?’ Ian asked.

Mickey glanced at him and ignored the question, purposefully finishing off his piece of pizza.

‘Okay,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes. ‘That’s fine. Wanna know what I was thinking?’

‘Sure.’

‘This is kinda nice,’ Ian said, as he bumped their shoulders together.

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Don’t you think so?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

Ian smiled knowingly. ‘Suppose so. Question.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Can I see your art?’ Ian asked hopefully, biting his lip.

Mickey waved his hand towards his studio. ‘Don’t touch anything.’

Ian grinned and jumped up off the couch. He sneaked across the floor, and touched the door handle like a small child sticking its hand into the forbidden cookie jar. ‘Really? I can go in?’

‘Might as well,’ Mickey shrugged. He took the leftover pizza to his kitchen and watched as Ian turned the door knob slowly and pushed it open. ‘Jesus, Gallagher. Just fucking go in.’

Ian bit back a laugh and went into the room. ‘You have nothing in progress?’ he called out.

Mickey rolled his eyes and joined Ian in his studio. ‘They’re in the rack, dumbass.’

Ian swatted his arm lightly. ‘You told me not to touch anything.’

‘You can touch the stuff in the rack,’ Mickey said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway.

Ian tip toed over to the rack and started pawing carefully through them. His eyebrows furrowed and Mickey immediately knew which one he had come across.

‘Is this me?’ Ian asked, taking the canvas out and setting it on the easel. He stood back and tilted his head to look at it from a different angle. ‘Is this what you meant when you said you painted me?’

Mickey nodded. _Might as well admit it._ ‘It was an accident. I was kinda stuck on the face and, well...’ he shrugged. ‘You were just _there_.’

‘So it’s not meant to be me?’

‘It’s _supposed_ to be Apollo. I was stuck on the face,’ he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

Ian raised an eyebrow. ‘Apollo? Like the God dude?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded.

‘You like mythology or something?’

 _“Like” might be too casual of a word._ ‘Something like that.’

‘Oh cool,’ Ian smiled. ‘Teach me to paint? Or maybe just draw? Do you have sketchbooks?’

‘Yeah, they’re um...’ Mickey went over to one of the shelves lining the room. ‘Here.’ He pulled one out and went back to sit in the living room. He handed the book to Ian as he sat down, and crossed his legs under him, chewing his lip as Ian opened the book.

It was weird to watch Ian flip slowly and carefully through the pages of his sketchbook, because it was like he had let Ian into his mind. Yeah, people saw his art, and he sold it and it was hanging in public places, but his sketchbooks weren’t something he broadcast to the world, and now there was someone else going through one.

Even if it was Ian – the adorably dorky gingerbread boy who he had this mad crush on and was somehow in the beginning stages of a relationship with – it was still kind of a crazy thing to comprehend.

‘These are really good, Mickey,’ Ian said softly. ‘Like, _really_ good.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey said, looking over to Ian. ‘It’s weird seeing you go through my sketches.’

‘Why? Am I the first person you’ve shown?’

Mickey nodded. ‘I don’t really like letting people go through them.’

‘So does that make me special?’ Ian smiled.

‘’Spose,’ Mickey shrugged.

Ian shut the book and put it on the table in front of them. ‘Have you thought about maybe becoming a tattooist?’

‘Why?’

‘You’ve definitely got the skills for it. Just need to do the license or whatever, and I think you’d be set.’

‘Nah. I don’t want that kind of power in my hands. Marking someone for the rest of their lives?’ Mickey shook his head. ‘I don’t want that responsibility.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ian adjusted his position on the couch and ended up sliding closer to Mickey. ‘So, I know you’re an artist, and that you’re Ukrainian, and you’re Mandy’s brother, but that’s about it.’

‘Point?’

‘Tell me about yourself. I want to know little things about you.’

‘Uh...’ Mickey frowned. ‘Like what?’

‘Dunno,’ Ian rested his head on Mickey’s shoulder and looked up at him. ‘Anything. Then I’ll tell you some things.’

‘Uh. Okay,’ Mickey bit his lip, thinking of something to say. ‘My favourite colour is green. I like the rain, and the snow. I hate spiders.’

‘I’ll kill spiders for you,’ Ian laughed. ‘Okay. My favourite colour is blue. I have a tattoo, which you might have seen? I don’t know. And... I like highlighting things.’

‘You have a tattoo?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian turned to pull up the side of his shirt, and expose the eagle perched on a rifle. ‘Got it when I was seventeen after I enlisted.’

‘In the army?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘Gotta be eighteen, don’t you?’

‘I got around that,’ Ian winked. ‘But um. Yeah. Got kicked out when they found out I was too young, and that I was, y’know, manic when I joined.’

‘You were what?’

‘Manic,’ Ian coughed. ‘I, ah. I’m bipolar. High highs then low lows? I was high high and after I crashed and explained everything, they sort of... excused me for deserting. I’m on medication now, and I’m balanced, so I’m mostly better. Still get bad days, but they’re nowhere near as bad as they could be.’

‘Oh,’ Mickey said. ‘Okay.’

‘That doesn’t freak you out?’

‘It’s genetic, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘If it’s something you can’t help, it shouldn’t be held against you.’

Ian smiled. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t needa thank me, Gallagher. I’m just saying the truth,’ Mickey shrugged.

‘You’re kinda great, you know that?’

‘Yup.’

 

* * *

 

_mick, u busy on saturday?_

_no... why..._

_picnic? radar needs to get out bc i haven’t been able to take him for a run in a few days._

_uh. sure?_

_great! i'll pack food xx_

_hey gallagher?_

_yeah?_

_it's supposed to rain on saturday_

_oh_

_if u wanna take ur dog for a walk then come to mine and bring food. we can picnic inside._

_defeats the purpose of a picnic_

_no it doesn’t. a picnic is eating food on the ground. there's a floor in my apartment._

_sure u wanna have a wet dog in ur apartment?_

_already smells like paint fumes_

_fair enough. i'll be there around 10 :) xx_

_okay. see u saturday._

 

* * *

 

It did rain. Not only did it rain, it fucking _poured_. It was like someone was just tipping buckets of water over everything, and still, Ian made the questionable decision to walk to Mickey’s apartment. He at least had the decency to put Radar’s raincoat on (he was definitely not pleased about that) and put the food and a change of clothes in a waterproof backpack.

When Mickey opened the door, his first reaction was to bite back a grin and hold in his laughter. He waved Ian in, and removed the jacket from Radar, then said, ‘You want a shower or something? Like a hot one, not... rain water.’

Ian rolled his eyes, but said, ‘Point me in the right direction.’

‘Through there,’ Mickey said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of his bathroom. ‘There are towels on a shelf in there.’

‘Thanks,’ Ian smiled.

Not soon after, Mickey heard his shower turn on, so he knew that Ian must’ve figured it out. He turned his attention to Radar, who was nosing around his apartment. He frowned and called back to Ian, ‘Is your dog going to piss on my furniture?’

‘Nah, he’ll be fine!’ Ian replied. ‘In my backpack, there’s all the food and stuff, and there’s a little bag with dog treats in it. Get those out and give him one, okay?’

‘Uh,’ Mickey approached Ian’s sopping bag warily and opened it. He pulled a bunch of Tupperware containers out, and put those in his kitchen. ‘Where is it?’

‘Should be in the pocket with everything else?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and shoved his hand into the bag again. ‘Aha!’

‘Find ‘em?’ Ian called.

‘Yup!’

‘Mmkay, give one to my dog and he’ll be good.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey said, opening the bag and pulling out, what looked like, a dried pig’s ear. ‘Do you shake?’ Mickey asked, looking down to Radar, who was sitting at his feet. The dog raised his (very wet) paw, and waved it at Mickey. ‘Oh, you do?’ Mickey said, shaking the paw and giving the dog his treat. He watched Radar trot off and find himself a spot under his table to chew on the treat.

‘Huh,’ Mickey murmured. He decided to set up the food while Ian was in the shower, so he got a blanket from his cupboard, and spread it on the floor of his living room. He gathered the food, and moved it onto the blanket, getting drinks for him and Ian as well.

‘You made it into a picnic,’ Ian said quietly, appearing behind Mickey and winding his arms around him.

Mickey raised his eyebrows, and pushed lightly at Ian’s arms. ‘You’re wet,’ he protested weakly, suddenly being brought face to face with Ian’s (fucking fantastic) chest.

‘Mhmm,’ Ian smiled. ‘I left my clothes out here.’

‘Doesn’t explain why you’re wet,’ Mickey said, giving up on escaping Ian’s arms, and twisting around to face him properly. ‘You could’ve dried off.’

‘But I didn’t,’ Ian smiled, kissing Mickey’s jaw lightly.

‘What was that for?’ Mickey asked, his hands automatically going to settle on Ian’s hips, and the towel that was loosely wrapped around them.

‘Just because,’ Ian murmured. ‘That okay?’

Mickey bit his lip and looked up at him. ‘Get dressed, you fucking dork.’

Ian laughed. ‘You call me a dork a lot.’

‘That’s because it’s true,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Now, get off me. I’m fucking wet, too, now.’

‘Perfect,’ Ian murmured. ‘Exactly what I wanted.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey said, with no real heat. He stepped out of Ian’s arms and sat down on his makeshift picnic blanket. ‘Hurry up and get dressed.’

Ian grinned and went over to his bag to retrieve his dry clothes, before he disappeared into Mickey’s bedroom to dry off and get dressed. He came back out, small rivulets of water trickling down his neck, and getting his shirt damp again.

Mickey frowned as the redhead sat next to him. ‘Why did you even change your clothes if these ones are only going to get wet, too?’

Ian shrugged as he opened a box full of little triangular sandwiches. ‘Shits and giggles.’

‘Obviously,’ Mickey said, taking one of the tiny sandwiches Ian held out to him. He took a bite and made a face at the redhead. ‘The fuck is in these?’

‘Cucumber and mint,’ Ian said, smiling as he watched Mickey’s face contort strangely. ‘Nice, isn’t it? Very refreshing.’

‘Refreshing?’ Mickey swallowed and scowled accusingly at the box. ‘I feel like I just ate toothpaste.’

‘And who doesn’t love toothpaste?’ Ian asked.

‘Most people don’t fucking _eat_ it.’

‘Exactly! Most people.’

Mickey shook his head, because seriously, he thought this guy would be all cool and distant or something, but he was so warm, and bubbly, and an absolute fucking idiot at the same time. It was weird, but it was awesome, because for some weird reason, he wanted to date Mickey. The thought made him smile, and he reached for one of the other containers.

‘There’s salad in there so you might need a fork,’ Ian said through a mouthful of sandwich. Catching Mickey’s frown, he rolled his eyes and continued his sentence. ‘But it’s this amazing stuff and it’s like extreme potato salad. It’s got mayonnaise and potatoes and chicken and pickles and a whole bunch of other stuff and it tastes like the tears of Jesus.’

Mickey blinked. ‘Is it Russian salad?’

Ian paused in opening his container. ‘What?’

‘Russian salad,’ Mickey repeated. ‘Is it?’

‘I think so?’

Mickey darted up and grabbed a couple of forks from his kitchen. He took the offered container from Ian, and scooped up some of the stuff in the box. He moaned as he chewed on whatever he had just shoved in his mouth.

‘Is it?’ Ian asked.

Mickey nodded slowly and shut his eyes, waving one hand in the air, as he got caught up in his come to Jesus moment. ‘I haven’t had this in years,’ Mickey said, eating a few more forkfuls. ‘Oh, fuck me.’

‘Later,’ Ian murmured. ‘Once our food has settled.’

‘Shhhhh,’ Mickey said, silencing Ian with a wave of his fork. ‘Don’t ruin the moment.’

‘We’re having a moment?’

‘We?’ Mickey’s eyes shot open. ‘No, me and the salad.’

‘You’re having a moment with the salad.’

‘Fuck off, man,’ Mickey sighed. ‘My mom used to make this. Svetlana makes this. She hasn’t done for ages, but this stuff? Man, I could live off it.’

‘Are you serious?’ Ian asked.

‘Yeah, man. Did you make this?’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘Fuck, Gallagher. You make Russian salad, and I’m never gonna break up with you, I swear to God.’

Ian laughed in amusement. ‘Just because I make this stuff?’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey mumbled around a mouthful of potato.

‘Might have to make it more often then,’ Ian grinned.

‘Mmkay.’

Ian laughed again, and continued opening boxes to find food for himself, because he had decided to let Mickey commandeer the box of Russian salad. He ended up throwing carrot sticks at Radar under the table once he finished his treat, and eating little bits and pieces, while Mickey sat with his box, and made little happy sounds every time he had a particularly tasty bite.

Mickey sighed as he finished the box of salad, and caught sight of Ian watching him. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I have some leftover at my apartment, if you want me to bring you more for lunch on Monday or something.’

Mickey nodded. ‘That would be great.’

‘Okay. I’ll bring it over tomorrow then.’

‘You could always just give me the recipe.’

‘Yeah, but if I do that, then you have no reason to date me anymore,’ Ian said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Mickey grinned. ‘True. Absolutely no reason.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished this chapter in a weird place, but about the russian salad. it's also known as olivier salad, but i know it as russian salad. one of my mum's friends is from - what used to be known as - yugoslavia (idk where exactly), and she makes it sometimes. using like 10kg of potatoes and 3kg of mayonnaise. (she knows a lot of people and they all want it.) and i'm being serious when i describe it as tasting like the tears of jesus. 
> 
> tl;dr: if you have never had russian salad, you're missing out.
> 
> [tumblr~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	6. Butt Scooting Is Completely Out Of The Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: while writing 'scoot' i remembered how i was once texting (messaging on facebook?) one of my friends about a guy called scott and i accidentally typed 'scoot' instead and there were tears streaming from my eyes. i had to take a minute.

They quickly developed a routine of things.

A few times a week, whether Mickey was at work or at home, they would arrange to have lunch together. Sometimes Ian would meet Mickey at the garage, sometimes Mickey would meet Ian at a cafe near his work, and sometimes they would have lunch at Mickey’s apartment, and he would make them pancakes or something. If they couldn’t have lunch together, sometimes they did dinner. Or desert. Or drinks. Or midnight baking.

Weekends were pretty... relaxed. Ian didn’t have work, and neither did Mickey, unless he was called in last minute. Ian usually walked Radar to Mickey’s apartment, and he would go through manuscripts, or work on his own, while Mickey went to his studio and hurled a mix of paint and insults at whatever he was working on.

Sometimes Ian would even bring Mickey some Russian salad. (He refused to give Mickey his recipe, and apparently nothing Mickey made using recipes he found on the internet tasted as good.)

What they had going was weird, and involved, and confirmed Mickey’s thoughts that he was definitely in a relationship. Oh well. He was happy, so everyone else could pretty much get fucked.

This particular day, about two months after the bagel date, it was a Saturday, so Ian was at Mickey’s apartment. They had decided that to minimise the risk of interruption, they would have sex around lunch time, because that was usually the only time that neither of them got called by anyone else.

However, Ian insisted that they have their phones in the bedroom in case of emergency, because God knows how much Ian hated missing phone calls.

They hadn’t even been at it for that long when Mickey’s phone started going off. Ian groaned, and started to pull away, but Mickey grabbed his shoulders and shook his head. ‘Keep going,’ Mickey said, reaching for his phone. ‘Ah, fuck, it’s Mandy.’

‘Sure you don’t want me to stop?’ Ian asked, keeping up his steady rhythm.

Mickey pierced him with a look and answered his phone. ‘What?’

‘Jesus, what’s up your ass?’ Mandy replied.

Ian grinned down at Mickey and winked. ‘Wouldn’t she like to know?’

‘Did I hear Ian?’ Mandy asked. ‘Never mind, I don’t care. Guess what!’

‘What?’ Mickey said, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and clutching at Ian with the other. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he breathed, as Ian found his sweet spot.

Luckily, Mandy didn’t catch that. ‘I said guess, asshole.’

‘Mandy, I am not in the mood to guess,’ Mickey said.

Ian rolled his eyes and picked up the pace, targeting the spot with each thrust. ‘Just say something, Mickey.’

‘I am not going to guess, Jesus, Gallagher.’

‘Ian _is_ there?’ Mandy asked.

‘Ian... Yeah. Yeah, he’s – _there_.’

‘Put me on speaker!’ Mandy squealed.

‘She wants the – _fuck_ – speaker on,’ Mickey gasped.

Ian shrugged as well as he could. ‘That a good idea?’

‘Nope,’ Mickey sighed, and his back arched. ‘Jesus, Mandy, what the fuck do you want?’

‘Guess!’

‘I’m not _fucking_ guessing!’

‘Svetlana’s engaged!’ Mandy said gleefully.

‘Oh my _God_ ,’ Mickey cried, as Ian moved his hand between them.

‘I know!’ Mandy replied. ‘Isn’t it great?’

‘Fucking great,’ Mickey agreed. ‘Oh God, do that again.’

Ian grinned and twisted his wrist again. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Lana’s getting married,’ Mickey said. ‘Oh, fuck _me_.’

‘I thought I was?’ Ian asked, cocking an eyebrow.

‘Did you tell him?’ Mandy interrupted.

‘Yeah, he thinks it’s great.’

Ian rolled his hips slowly and looked pointedly at Mickey’s phone.

‘The fuck you think you’re doing, Gallagher?’ Mickey hissed. ‘Mands, I gotta go.’

‘Why? Am I interrupting something?’

‘You – fuck, Gallagher, just – _shit_ ,’ Mickey groaned, as Ian laughed and picked the pace up again, thrusting harder into that spot.

‘Oh my God, I am!’ Mandy cried. ‘Can you please get Ian’s dick out of your ass for three Goddamn seconds so we can have a fucking conversation?’

‘Nope,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Bye, Mands.’

‘What?’

Ian grabbed the phone from Mickey’s hand and slowed the rolling of his hips again. ‘Mandy, I love you, but I really want to finish fucking your brother. We’ll call you back later.’

‘Ian, what –’ Mandy protested.

‘Bye, Mandy!’ Ian said, punctuating his words with a couple of harder thrusts so she would hear Mickey yell, _‘Fuck!’_

Ian threw the phone onto the pile of clothes beside the bed and looked down at Mickey. ‘Can we continue now?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Mhmm.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ian asked, completely halting his movements. ‘Don’t wanna get up for an intermission or something?’

Mickey yanked Ian’s head down and stared him directly in the eyes. ‘Get the fuck on with it, gingerass.’

‘As you wish,’ Ian smiled.

 

* * *

 

‘So, what did you want to talk about?’ Mickey asked, turning his phone onto speaker as he and Ian sat down with plates of bacon and eggs.

‘Depends. There still a dick in your ass?’ Mandy replied.

Ian laughed. ‘Nope. Dick is safe, secure, and out of sight.’

‘Good,’ Mandy said cheerfully. ‘Lana got engaged, right?’

‘Right,’ Mickey said slowly.

‘She wanted me to ask if you would do a couple of favours for her. She’ll pay, of course.’

‘What kind of favours?’ Mickey asked, shovelling egg into his mouth.

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Attractive look, Mick,’ he murmured, grinning when Mickey flipped him off.

‘She wants you to design wedding invites, place settings, and do some art piece thing for behind their table,’ Mandy said, sounding like she was reading off a note.

‘I’m not a typographer, Mandy,’ Mickey frowned.

‘If you want,’ Ian interrupted. ‘Mickey can do the design for the invites and place cards, and I’ll do the words and calligraphy for names or something?’

‘Huh,’ Mandy said. ‘I’ll ask her. Gimme a sec.’

‘Go for it,’ Ian said, scooping some egg onto a bit of bacon.

‘You do calligraphy?’ Mickey asked suspiciously, while they waited for Mandy to return.

Ian shrugged. ‘I got bored one night and spent about four hours mastering the art of the first six letters of the alphabet.’

‘So you can only do six letters? That’s not very useful, Gallagher.’

‘I know the rest, obviously. Don’t be a dick,’ Ian said, flicking a bit of scrambled egg at Mickey across the table.

Mickey grinned and kicked him under the table. ‘You love it.’

‘Maybe,’ Ian winked. ‘Dick in general is pretty great.’

‘Oh, Jesus, Gallagher,’ Mickey groaned.

‘You’re not having sex again, are you?’ Mandy’s voice drifted through the phone again.

‘Not yet. Gotta replenish our strength,’ Ian replied. ‘What did Lana say?’

‘Uh... She said that’s fine, but to run the design past her first, obviously, then she’ll give you info to put in them or whatever. Also, she’s only giving you a set amount of cash, so you can decide how to split it yourselves.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey agreed. ‘Why she making you do all this stuff?’

‘I’m her maid of honour,’ Mandy said proudly. ‘So I’m kind of required to help, I guess.’

‘So you’re like second head bitch in charge?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Congrats to you then, Mands,’ Ian offered. ‘And congrats to Lana, too, obviously. Is she having an engagement party?’

‘Yup, in about six weeks. We’re working on invitations for that today.’

‘Oh cool. When did she get engaged? You seem pretty... Organised.’

‘They got engaged a few days ago. She only asked me today.’

‘Right, right,’ Ian nodded.

‘She can’t see you nodding,’ Mickey muttered.

‘It’s the thought that counts,’ Ian replied haughtily. ‘So shut the fuck up.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Yeah, alright, gingerbread.’

‘Ugh, you two sound adorable. I’m gonna go vomit,’ Mandy interrupted.

‘Okay, have fun with that,’ Mickey said, going to end the call. ‘Bye.’

‘Oh, wait up,’ Mandy said quickly. ‘Do you mind if I have your couch for the night? I told Lana that she and Flynn could have the apartment tonight.’

‘Uh...’ Mickey looked questioningly at Ian.

Ian shrugged. ‘Am I staying tonight?’

‘Are you?’

‘Would you end up having sex if Ian stayed?’ Mandy said.

The pair looked at each other and said simultaneously, ‘Probably.’

Mandy made a weird sound that might have been the beginnings of projectile vomiting. ‘Ian, go the fuck home. I’m not gonna listen to you pounding into my brother twice in one day.’

‘What if we’re, like, _really_ quiet?’ Ian asked, biting his lip suggestively at Mickey.

‘Mm, we could be quiet...’ Mickey mused, pushing his tongue to the corner of his mouth and pondering the thought.

‘You won’t be fucking quiet, and you know it,’ Mandy said. ‘Ian, you’re staying at your house tonight. Jesus, think of _Radar_.’

‘He likes it here,’ Ian protested. ‘But I suppose.’

‘Exactly. I’ll be around at about six.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey sighed and glanced at Ian across the table. ‘Guess we better go a couple more rounds before she arrives.’

‘I’m still here!’ Mandy cried.

‘Not for long,’ Mickey said, hanging up the phone. He turned back to Ian. ‘Wanna start on the couch?’

‘Mick, come on. Not if Mandy has to sleep on it tonight,’ he paused. ‘Maybe after she’s gone.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Deal. Where, then?’

Ian tapped his finger against his chin thoughtfully. ‘Studio? We could play naked Twister. With paint.’

‘Um, not with my paints. Mine are fucking expensive. Buy some non toxic kid’s shit.’

‘So no naked Twister, either?’

‘I don’t even own Twister.’

‘What if I went out and bought it?’ Ian asked, finishing the last of his bacon. ‘Then could we play it?’

Mickey gave a long suffering sigh. ‘I suppose.’

Ian stood quickly to go dump his plate in the sink. He grabbed his phone and wallet, kissed Mickey’s hair, and went to the front door. ‘I’ll be back soon. Do some work for Lana’s stuff, okay?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Mickey waved his hand dismissively. ‘See you in a minute.’

Ian winked at him and left, shutting the door gently behind himself.

Mickey sighed again and caught sight of Radar lying beside his chair. ‘Your daddy is weird. Weird and goofy and really hot,’ Mickey sighed again. ‘I kinda like him.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey had taken to a sketchpad, as suggested by Ian, to start doodling random designs for Svetlana’s wedding bits and pieces. Ian had left about an hour ago, and Mickey was starting to wonder if he was going to come back, when there was a knock on his door.

Radar leapt off the couch and ran to the door and barked at it, looking back at Mickey expectantly as he opened it.

‘Oh, hey,’ Mickey smiled, letting Ian in. ‘Starting to think you should have a key for this place so I don’t have to keep getting up.’

Ian’s face brightened, and he pecked Mickey’s cheek. ‘Hey, buddy!’ he said, kneeling down to be on Radar’s level. ‘Were you good for Mickey?’

‘Course he was,’ Mickey huffed. ‘He likes me.’

‘Just like his daddy then,’ Ian smiled. ‘How’d you get on?’ he asked, nodding towards Mickey’s sketchpad.

‘Eh... Just fucking around with some generic shit. Don’t know if she’s having a theme or whatever,’ Mickey said, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Should probably find out.’

‘Might not have decided yet,’ Ian said, smiling wider as he noticed the pencil tucked behind Mickey’s ear. It was actually kind of adorable how lazy Mickey was – if one pencil went blunt, he swapped it for the sharper one behind his ear, so he wouldn’t have to get up and find his sharpener.

‘Mm. Good point,’ Mickey nodded. ‘You get Twister?’

‘I got Twister. And paint. In case you want to play naked paint Twister.’

‘You can go Full Monty for paint Twister, but I’m not a huge fan of paint in my asscrack.’

‘You say that like you’ve had paint in your asscrack before,’ Ian said, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at Mickey.

Mickey shrugged. ‘Shit happens at Mandy’s themed parties.’

‘You played naked Twister with your _sister_?’ Ian asked.

‘I didn’t play it _with_ my sister. I played it at her apartment,’ Mickey clarified. ‘There’s a difference,’ he paused thoughtfully. ‘We were way too drunk, and there was a hot guy there, so...’

‘So you stripped off, and got down and dirty in the paint, while presenting yourself?’ Ian shook his head in amusement. ‘When exactly was this?’

‘Couple years ago,’ Mickey sighed nostalgically. ‘Young and irresponsible.’

‘You’re actually still pretty fucking young, Mick,’ Ian noted. ‘You’re what, 24?’

‘Okay, let me rephrase. Younger and slightly more irresponsible,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Only slightly more irresponsible because I let paint get in my ass. It was like I was shitting rainbows for days after whenever I went in the shower, because _somehow_ there was always more fucking paint in there.’

Ian laughed. ‘So instead of naked Twister with paint, we’re playing partially clothed Twister with paint?’

‘Looks like it,’ Mickey said, catching the box Ian threw at him.

‘Are we actually gonna do this?’ Ian asked, watching as Mickey entered his studio and ripped open the plastic packaging on the Twister box.

‘Your idea. Backing out, Gallagher?’ Mickey grinned, balling up the plastic and tossing it in the direction of his bin.

‘Fuck no,’ Ian kicked his shoes off and shed various clothes until he was standing in his boxers, ripping into the children’s paints, while he waited for Mickey to spread out the Twister board.

‘Good,’ Mickey said, standing and yanking off his own clothes to toss them into the living room. ‘Get the paint down. Actually, I’m going to cover the rack first. Hold up,’ Mickey searched through one of the boxes on a lower shelf of the room to find another drop cloth, which he tossed over his rack of in-progress paintings. ‘Paint.’

Ian nodded and started pouring paint onto the coloured spots. ‘That enough?’

Mickey glanced over to see the small puddles of paint Ian had spread out. ‘For round one,’ he grinned.

 

* * *

 

‘Okay,’ Ian said, stretching forward to flick the arrow on the board. ‘Right hand red, Mick.’

‘How the fuck am I supposed to do that?!’ Mickey asked. ‘Everything else is on green!’

‘I don’t have a problem with it.’

‘That’s because you’re fucking huge,’ Mickey frowned. He huffed out a breath and slid his hand through the paint from the blue dot it had been on. His fingertips crossed the barrier into the red dot and he stopped. ‘This is literally as far as I can go.’

‘Hmm. I suppose that’s okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Spin.’

Mickey tilted himself towards the spinner, and nudged it. ‘Um. Left foot green.’

‘I’ve already got my left foot on green!’

‘Gotta move it to the other dot, man.’

‘Fuck,’ Ian muttered. He bit his lip and moved his foot through the paint, from the dot it had previously been occupying, to the last remaining dot in front of Mickey. ‘Hey, move a bit. I have to go between your legs.’

‘Not _yet_ , Gallagher. We’re still playing,’ Mickey grinned.

Ian groaned. ‘Stop being a smartass and spread your fucking legs as far as you can.’

‘Not making it sound any less dirty. Now wiggle your damn foot down here between my legs, gingerbread,’ Mickey said, sliding his feet apart slightly to let Ian through.

Ian laughed in triumph as his foot hit the spot, but that laugh quickly turned into a chant of, ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ as his foot continued sliding.

Mickey laughed. ‘You’re doing down, Gallagher!’

‘If I’m going, I’m gonna take you with me,’ Ian said, purposefully nudging Mickey’s precarious position, and knocking him down to sprawl sideways into the paint, landing on Ian’s leg, and forcing him down as well.

‘Fuck,’ Mickey said, landing in the paint. ‘That was so uncalled for.’

‘You love it,’ Ian grinned, rolling in the mix of paints to lie beside Mickey, who had apparently given up on life and had decided to stay lying where he was.

‘Yeah, love having paint in my hair,’ Mickey grimaced. ‘At least this shit is washable, right?’

Ian shrugged and folded his arms under his head. ‘I assume so. It’s kids’ paint, yeah?’

‘You bought it.’

‘I did,’ Ian said, pushing himself up onto one elbow and looking down at his paint covered boyfriend. ‘This is nice, don’t you think?’

‘What, lying in the paint?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Real fucking romantic. We look like we’re covered in unicorn shit, and guess what? There’s fucking paint in my hair.’

Ian laughed. ‘You’re so cute when you’re angry.’

‘Fucking what?’

‘I said,’ Ian leaned down and kissed him gently. ‘You’re cute when you’re angry.’

‘Know what else I am when I’m angry?’ Mickey asked, pulling Ian back down to kiss him again.

‘Hmm...’ Ian hovered above Mickey and rested with his forearms on either side of his head. ‘Really turned on?’

‘No,’ Mickey slapped his chest lightly. ‘I’m still covered in _fucking paint_.’

‘You’re not _completely_ covered in paint,’ Ian trailed off and bit his lip to contain his grin.

‘You’re not about to change that, either.’

‘Aren’t I?’

‘No, you’re fucking not,’ Mickey said. ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

Ian kissed the tip of Mickey’s nose to distract him, while he moved one hand into the spot of yellow paint beside him, then spread the paint over Mickey’s chest. ‘Ah, perfect.’

‘You fucker!’ Mickey gasped. ‘Got a hard on for Homer Simpson or something?’

‘Nah,’ Ian paused thoughtfully. ‘More like Grandpa Simpson. He’s more in my typical age range.’

‘That’s fucking disgusting,’ Mickey said, slapping his blue covered hand onto Ian’s chest, and dragging it down.

‘Mickey,’ Ian murmured. ‘You had hardly any paint on your hand. You’re just touching my abs.’

‘I know _exactly_ what I’m doing, Gallagher. Don’t you think I don’t.’

Ian laughed. ‘Well, I’m just saying, if you’re gonna smother me with paint, the least you could do is do it properly. Like this!’ he grinned, scooping up more paint and dumping it on Mickey underneath him.

‘Why?’ Mickey groaned. He wrapped his arms around Ian’s shoulders and yanked him down into the paint. ‘Ha fucking ha, asshole.’

‘I’m not laughing. I don’t mind being covered in paint,’ Ian said, wiggling around to spread the paint between them.

‘Yeah, I can tell you like having slippery gunk all over your chest.’

Ian winked. ‘Don’t worry, your slippery gunk is my favourite.’

Mickey grimaced. ‘That’s disgusting. Get off me.’

Ian laughed and rolled off Mickey to lie beside him. ‘For the record, paint is a good look on you.’

‘Man, shut the fuck up,’ Mickey said, back handing him. ‘Help me up. We need to get this shit off before it dries.’

‘That’s what she said,’ Ian sang, pushing himself up. ‘How dry are your feet?’

‘Good fucking question,’ Mickey said. ‘Better not test out the theory. How good at sack racing are you?’

‘Why? Wanna do that next week?’

‘No, to like... Jump to the shower in. So we don’t get paint on my floor,’ Mickey said, grabbing the hand Ian offered and standing up.

‘Oh. Or we could do that, I suppose.’

‘We could always butt scoot. Or shuffle on a drop cloth.’

‘Butt scooting is completely out of the question. Your ass is covered in paint,’ Ian pointed out.

‘True. Shuffle on a drop cloth it is,’ Mickey said, grabbing the cloth from his rack of paintings. He spread it out on the floor and stepped on. ‘Get behind me and let’s do this.’

‘Aw, Mick,’ Ian said, getting onto the drop cloth. ‘Can you wait until we’ve washed the paint off?’

‘What?’ Mickey asked. ‘Oh. Fuck you and your fucking innuendos.’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘Okay. Let’s shuffle.’

They managed to successfully navigate the drop cloth to Mickey’s bathroom, and once they were there, realised they could’ve just wiped the paint off their feet with the cloth and walked normally to the bathroom. It was, of course, too late, but was something to remember for the next time they would inevitably play extreme paint Twister.

It was a good thing they had decided to wear only boxers. They were now stained rather colourfully, but as far as Mickey was concerned, as long as his ass didn’t make rainbows, it was a positive thing.

‘Make sure you get all of it off, okay?’ Mickey said, passing Ian a washcloth to help him clean paint off his back. ‘Don’t want a little spot of green left on me or something.’

‘Would Hulk smash?’ Ian teased, scrubbing lightly at a particularly stubborn bit of paint on Mickey’s shoulder blade.

‘Hulk wouldn’t smash, but Hulk would be fucking _pissed_.’

‘Isn’t that the same thing?’

‘No?’ Mickey shook his head, and scrubbed at the paint all over his own chest. ‘Was it worth playing paint Twister?’

Ian hummed thoughtfully. ‘I like anything where we’re not wearing clothes.’

‘Yeah, I know you do,’ Mickey smiled. ‘All done back there?’

‘Mostly,’ Ian said, dousing the cloth with more body wash and focusing on the last bit of red. ‘Okay. Do me,’ he dropped the cloth in Mickey’s hand, and felt the gentle circular motions Mickey started making on his back with the cloth. ‘Can you reach okay?’

‘Don’t be an ass,’ Mickey said, watching the paint mix with water, and drip down Ian’s back. He looked at the floor of the shower, and laughed. ‘The water looks like we’ve been in a battle or something.’

‘Awesome,’ Ian murmured. ‘How is there so much red? Am I bleeding back there?’

‘No, of course not,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘If that was all blood, you’d either be passed out, or dead.’

‘Wow, that’s comforting. Thanks, Mick.’

‘No problem.’

 

* * *

 

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this clean,’ Mickey said, flopping onto the couch and stretching out along the cushions.

Ian picked up his feet and sat down, replacing them in his lap. ‘I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.’

‘Me either,’ Mickey yawned. ‘What time is it?’

‘Dunno. Four, I think.’

‘We have two hours until Mandy gets here,’ Mickey sighed. ‘Fuck.’

‘What should we do until then?’

‘Nothing that involves moving. I’m tired as fuck right now.’

‘Are you?’ Ian asked.

‘Mm,’ Mickey hummed.

‘I’ll put on a movie and you can have a nap then, yeah?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

Ian got up again, went to Mickey’s small selection of movies, and frowned. ‘Where are the rest?’

‘That is the rest.’

‘Hmm,’ Ian looked over the small selection. ‘You good with _Sweeney Todd_?’

‘I’m gonna nap. I don’t care,’ Mickey shrugged.

Ian inserted the disk, and sat back down beside Mickey. ‘Okay, come here,’ he said, navigating the start menu.

‘Huh?’

‘Lie the fuck down,’ Ian said.

‘Mmkay,’ Mickey agreed, too tired to argue. He flopped back the other way, and lay with his head in Ian’s lap. ‘Night.’

‘Night, Mickey,’ Ian murmured, combing his fingers through Mickey’s (sort of ridiculously soft) hair. When Mickey made a little noise, and moved his head, Ian stopped, and drew his hand back. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Mickey said. ‘Just getting comfy.’

‘Oh.’

‘Gallagher?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Put your fucking hand in my Goddamn hair.’

‘Okay.’

 

* * *

 

Mandy had knocked on Mickey’s door several times already. And he wasn’t opening it. She was about to yell out that she knew he was in there, when she got a text from Ian saying the door was open. _Of course it was._

She opened the door, and prepared to yell _again_ , when she spotting Ian sitting on the couch, and he made a _“shh”_ motion. She frowned and gave him a look that said, _“Dude, what the fuck?”_

‘He’s asleep,’ Ian said quietly, gesturing to the sleeping form of her brother, who had his head in Ian’s lap. ‘I can’t get up.’

Mandy rolled her eyes and dumped her bag next to the door. ‘How long has he been sleeping?’

‘About an hour and a half.’

‘Huh.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Mandy frowned. ‘He never sleeps with his head on someone.’

‘So?’

‘So nothing. I guess you’re special.’

‘We already knew I was special,’ Ian smiled.

‘Jesus,’ Mandy shook her head at him. ‘You’re good for him, you know? He really likes you.’

‘I should hope so,’ Ian said. ‘We are dating, after all.’

‘Yeah, I know. Just... don’t fuck it up, okay? Mickey deserves something good in his life.’

‘He does,’ Ian agreed. ‘I don’t know if I’m enough for him, though. With the... thing.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with you, and trust me, Mickey doesn’t give two shits if you’re bipolar or not. Speaking as his sister, he likes you the way you are, so you’re enough,’ Mandy sat down in Mickey’s armchair. ‘Speaking as your friend, shut the fuck up with your one person pity party and all this _“I’m not enough”_ shit, because you’re perfectly fine and if Mickey doesn’t accept it, he doesn’t deserve you, okay?’

‘But he does accept it, right?’

‘Duh.’

Ian smiled. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ Mandy pressed.

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Good. Seriously, though. Don’t fuck this up.’

‘I won’t,’ Ian said solemnly. ‘Promise.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come talk to me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	7. Shut Up and Read My Shitty Fucking Poem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a lil bit longer to update than it should've, and it's shorter than the rest, but that was probably to be expected bc i had no idea what to put in this chapter, so i procrastinated the fuck outta it. (sorry!)

_good news!_

_mands whenever u say “good news!” u usually never have good news_

_well today i do_

_heh. what's up_

_lana and flynn decided on their theme!_

_theme?_

_for the wedding mickey_

_oh. what is it_

_imma call u hold up_

Mickey sighed and put his phone back on the table.

‘Okay over there?’ Ian asked from the couch, because of course Ian was there. He pretty much lived with Mickey now.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, running his hands through his hair. ‘Lana and Flynn have a theme, so I probably have to scrap everything I’ve been working on for them.’

‘Unlikely. Just switch the colours up or something.’

Mickey’s standard, annoying ringtone started going off, and Mickey answered, as he quickly turned the phone on speaker. ‘Sup, Mandy.’

‘Hey,’ Mandy greeted. ‘Have you started doing the things for the stuff yet?’

‘Fucking detailed question of you,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘Well, they’ve also set a date.’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘The wedding is in May, and their theme is Spring.’

‘Their Spring wedding is Spring themed?’ Ian asked, looking to Mickey for confirmation.

‘Ian? Are you there?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised, Mandy,’ Ian replied.

‘What the fuck do they mean by Spring theme?’ Mickey said, getting the conversation back on track. ‘Like, flowers and shit? Baby ducks?’

‘Yeah, flowers. And rebirth? New beginnings?’ Mandy suggested. ‘But she’s also going for an American-Russian fusion kind of theme, so I don’t know. Include little matryoshka dolls on it, maybe. Like tiny Svetlanas and tiny Flynns or something.’

‘Like going from childhood to adulthood?’ Mickey asked. ‘You should probably ask her before I start on that. Might not be her kinda thing.’

‘Yeah, I will. I’m just throwing some ideas out,’ Mandy sighed. ‘I’ll talk to her and get her to email you some suggestions, along with her date and stuff.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Mickey replied. ‘I’ll do some spring stuff and we can talk later, yeah?’

‘Yup yup,’ Mandy chirped. ‘Is Ian still there?’

‘Ian is still here,’ the redhead confirmed. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Lana wants you to write some mooshy shit for in her program. Like a poem or something. Acrostic, I think she said.’

‘Acrostic poems?’ Ian frowned. ‘What, like, “Marriage – M is for murder, which I might do to you if you fuck me off. A is for agility, which we have plenty of in the bedroom.’

‘Well, maybe something other than murder and their sex life,’ Mandy suggested. ‘But yeah. She wants a marriage one, a love one, and basically all that generic happy crap.’

‘Great,’ Ian muttered. ‘Generic happy crap.’

‘Use your Mickey induced love for it, okay?’

‘Mickey induced love?’ Mickey interrupted. ‘What?’

There was an awkward silence from both Ian and Mandy on the other end of the phone, until she said, ‘I gotta go. Bye!’

‘Bye, Mands,’ Mickey said, ending the call and turning to Ian, who was as red as his hair. ‘We’re not gonna have the talk, so put it straight the fuck outta your head.’

Ian nodded quickly. ‘Yeah, fine by me.’

 

* * *

 

‘Okay, I’ve got one down,’ Ian said happily, flicking his pen back and forth between two fingers, as he read his poem back.

‘One what?’ Mickey asked, not moving his eyes from his sketchbook.

‘Poem.’

‘Really? Gonna let me read it?’

‘Do you _want_ to read it?’

‘Might as well,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Feedback, right?’

Ian nodded and passed Mickey the block of paper he had been writing on. ‘Be gentle.’

‘Thought you wanted to be a writer, man? Gonna have to get used to criticism,’ Mickey murmured.

‘Yeah, well. Acrostics are stupid.’

‘You’re stupid.’

‘Shut up and read my shitty fucking poem.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and tucked his pencil behind his ear. ‘Want me to read it out loud?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Mickey replied, exhaling deeply before starting to read.

 

_L is for the life I wouldn’t have without you,_

_O is for optimistic, how I feel about our future._

_V is for Venn diagram, because we met in the middle,  
_

_E is for you, because you’re everything I’ve wanted._

Mickey frowned as he finished reading. ‘One of these things is not like the others.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘I know. “V is for Venn diagram” blah blah blah. What was I thinking?’

‘I honestly don’t think you were.’

Ian gave him a back handed slap to the chest, but smiled nonetheless. ‘Don’t be a dick. You couldn’t do better.’

‘You bet your fucking ass I could,’ Mickey replied indignantly. ‘What’s my word?’

‘Your word?’

‘What am I doing an acrostic of?’

Ian bit his lip thoughtfully. ‘Ian Gallagher.’

Mickey snorted. ‘Hah. Fine. You’re doing my name then.’

‘I don’t even know how the fuck to spell your name.’

‘M-I-C-K-E-Y. Jesus, Gallagher.’

‘No, your _name_ name,’ Ian said. ‘Write it down.’

‘Fuck, Gallagher,’ Mickey muttered, scribbling down his name for Ian. ‘Fine. First finished gets a hummer, yeah?’

‘I’m good with that,’ Ian grinned. ‘Be prepared to lose.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I don’t mind losing.’

‘Good,’ Ian nodded. ‘Ready?’

‘Already halfway through,’ Mickey laughed.

‘Fuck you, Milkovich.’

‘Anytime.’

A couple of minutes later, Mickey put his pencil back behind his ear. ‘Done,’ he said triumphantly. He watched Ian finish his off, a few seconds later, and grinned. ‘Pass it over, then.’

Ian swapped papers with Mickey and frowned at what he had been given. ‘You really half-assed this, Mickey.’

‘Excuse you, Mickey Milkovich does not _half-ass_ anything.’

‘Except acrostic poems.’

‘Well... Yeah,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Read it.’

‘I am,’ Ian said, looking down at his paper.

 

_Ian_

_Asshole_

_Not as tall as you think you are_

_Gallagher_

_Annoying_

_Loud_

_Large_

_Ambient_

_Gingerbread_

_Hard_

_Enthusiastic_

_Really kinda tall_

‘Really interested to know why the word “ambient” is in there,’ Ian laughed, raising his eyebrows in question.

Mickey shrugged. ‘First word I thought of.’

‘Same thing for “hard”?’

‘No, you are hard.’

‘Not currently,’ Ian mused.

‘I wasn’t thinking of your dick, surprisingly. I meant muscles.’

‘Oh... Well, that too, I suppose,’ Ian nudged him in the ribs. ‘Read yours.’

‘It’s not as good as mine, I can feel it,’ Mickey grinned, reading his own acrostic.

 

_Mad_

_Interesting_

_King_

_Hard_

_Ass (it’s really nice)_

_Ingenious_

_Likes me_

_Omega_

_Mini_

_Indigo_

_Lips_

_Koala_

_Oh shit_

_Very_

_I like you_

_Cute_

_Happy_

‘The fuck, Gallagher?’ Mickey said, looking accusingly at his boyfriend. ‘You said _I_ half-assed it?’

‘You did!’

‘You said shit like “indigo”, “omega”, and “koala”!’

‘Indigo, like your eyes, omega because you’re kind of a lone wolf, and koala, because you cling to me like a tree when you nap on me,’ Ian justified. ‘Totally relevant.’

‘My fucking ass, relevant,’ Mickey jabbed him in the ribs. ‘And you said “hard” as well.’

‘That time, it was in reference to your dick, though.’

‘Good call,’ Mickey acknowledged. ‘Speaking of dicks, we said there were would be a victory hummer, right?’

Ian shrugged and slid off the couch, onto his knees in front of Mickey. ‘I _could_ use a break.’

 

* * *

 

‘How the flying fuck am I supposed to incorporate fucking matryoshka dolls?’ Mickey asked, scowling down at his page.

‘Dunno,’ Ian replied, going through the manuscript on his knee. ‘You should make one into Radar.’ The dog’s ears perked up at his name, and Ian nudged him with his toe. ‘Nah, bud. Ooh, you want a treat?’

‘I don’t have any dog treats,’ Mickey said, drawing a few outlines of the dolls.

‘Yeah, you do,’ Ian said, standing and walking to Mickey’s kitchen, Radar following closely behind. ‘I brought a little container over a few weeks ago. They’re in your pantry.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Did you not notice?’

‘Nope,’ Mickey looked up as Radar’s paws thumped over the carpet near his feet. ‘Well, fuck,’ he said, noticing the jerky thing in Radar’s mouth.

‘Mhmm. I figured that seeing as I’m here so much, and Radar is here with me a lot, I should have some treats here.’

‘Why?’

‘We fuck a lot,’ Ian shrugged.

‘So?’

‘Ian gets laid, Radar gets treats.’

Mickey laughed. ‘You serious?’

‘Yup.’

‘Your dog is gonna get fat, man.’

‘That’s why he only gets one,’ Ian smiled. ‘You want some help with colouring?’

‘I suppose,’ Mickey nodded.

‘Good. I wanna take a break from this. It’s giving me a headache. So many mistakes, Jesus.’

Mickey hesitated for a moment, before he leaned over and kissed Ian’s temple. ‘Better?’

‘A bit,’ Ian nodded, catching Mickey’s cheek, and pulling him back for another kiss. ‘Now, let me colour something.’

‘Okay, Mr Bossypants,’ Mickey said, getting up and wandering into his studio. He came back a few minutes later with two boxes. He threw the smaller one at his boyfriend and sat back down. ‘There.’

Ian picked up the box and gave Mickey a withering look. ‘I know I might not be as good an artist as you, but crayons? Really?’

‘Don’t knock the crayons,’ Mickey gasped. ‘Why do you think I have them if I don’t use them?’

‘ _Do_ you use them?’

‘Not really,’ Mickey said honestly. ‘They make a nice change sometimes, but I really thought Mandy would be spawning by now.’

‘Spawning?’

‘Yeah, like a salmon or something. They lay a fuckton of eggs, and I’m surprised Mandy doesn’t have five off each arm yet.’

‘Eggs, or kids?’

‘Kids.’

‘She’s not a slut,’ Ian reprimanded.

‘Well, she’s definitely not a virgin,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Can we not discuss the literal ins and outs of my sister’s love life?’

‘Good idea,’ Ian agreed. ‘Now pass me something to colour with my crayons, you dick.’

Mickey grinned and gave him a few outlines of matryoshka dolls he had played around with. ‘See if you can find a good colour scheme or something.’

‘Isn’t that your job?’

‘Fuck, probably. These are just doodles, so calm down, Gallagher.’

‘Perfectly calm,’ Ian smiled. ‘Unless you have calligraphy pens, then I can start doing something useful.’

‘Do I look like the kind of guy who owns calligraphy pens?’ Mickey asked, whacking his foot into Ian’s on the table.

Ian shrugged. ‘Dunno, man. You don’t look like the kind of guy who spends his time painting mermaids, either.’

‘Touché.’

 

* * *

 

‘I love it!’ Svetlana gasped, tilting the piece of paper Mickey handed her, to get the light hitting it at different angles, almost whacking Mandy in the face in the process. ‘Do you love it, Flynn?’

‘I do if you do,’ Flynn smiled, looking up from his laptop.

‘I really do,’ Svetlana said enthusiastically. ‘Make a master for us to get copied?’

‘Yeah, obviously I will,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘Ian gave me a sample of what he could do for the typography or something, if you wanna check that out.’

‘Absolutely!’ Svetlana nodded.

Mickey turned to rifle through the bag he had with him. It wasn’t a man-bag, as Ian called it. It was a fucking satchel, and seeing as he was also a proud owner of one, he should be able to fucking identify one when he saw it. ‘Here,’ Mickey said, yanking the paper out and passing it to Lana.

‘Oh, that’s really nice,’ she smiled. ‘It looks very elegant.’

‘That’s what I said. Picked a date and venue and stuff yet?’

‘Date, yes. We’re looking at venues now,’ Flynn answered from behind the laptop. ‘Lana has given me the reins for venue picking, seeing as I’m paying.’

‘To be approved by the queen, though, yeah?’ Mickey asked in amusement.

‘To be approved,’ Flynn agreed. ‘We’ll let you guys know as soon as we pick one.’

‘Fine by me,’ Mickey nodded.

‘Quick question,’ Svetlana said, her attention now turned to another piece of paper. ‘Will I need to invite Ian, or will you bring him as a plus one?’

Mickey blinked. ‘Your wedding is months away. I don’t know if I’ll still be with Ian next week, let alone in four months, or however far away the wedding is.’

‘You’ll be together,’ Svetlana and Mandy chimed together.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Puh-lease,’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘You’re whipped, he’s whipped, you’re both whipped, and Radar is your adopted son.’

‘I am _not_ whipped,’ Mickey scowled.

‘Yeah, you fucking are,’ Mandy said. She shook her head and turned to Svetlana. ‘It’s almost adorable he doesn’t realise.’

 ‘Orange boy got him good,’ Svetlana nodded seriously. ‘I’ll put him as a plus one.’

‘But –’

‘Plus one,’ Svetlana said, said, silencing his protests. ‘We can always look back at it if things change.’

‘Which they won’t,’ Mandy grinned.

‘You don’t know that,’ Mickey frowned.

‘I do. Do you _want_ it to change?’

‘No,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘Exactly. So it’s not a bad thing, right?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘You tell me.’

‘I have. It’s not a bad thing. You make each other happy, and Ian obviously loves you like you love him.’

Mickey’s eyes widened in panic. ‘I – you? I’m,’ he cleared his throat. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Yeah. Get your stammer sorted by shoving a dick in your throat.’

Svetlana laughed as Flynn choked on his coffee. ‘Mandy is right. You need to sort your problems.’

‘What problems?’

‘Dick ones,’ Mandy said. ‘Sort your dick problems.’

‘I don’t have dick problems.’

‘I know. It’s the person the dick is attached to that you’re being weird with.’

‘What?’

‘You needa sort out your feelings,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘You seem like you’re caught between being in love, and just really liking Ian. Sort your shit, brother. You’ll feel better.’

‘I feel fine how I am!’ Mickey protested.

‘No, you don’t,’ Mandy replied, throwing a pillow at him. ‘You’re conflicted, and it’s cute, but it’s fucking you up. And Ian can tell.’

‘He can?’

‘Yeah. And he’s worried.’

‘Why would he be worried?’

‘He thinks you’re gonna break up with him.’

‘What? That’s ridiculous.’

‘I know that, but he doesn’t,’ Mandy sighed. ‘Sort your shit with Ian, okay?’

‘Hmm,’ Mickey played with the edge of the pillow. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Now get out of my apartment and confess your undying love to my best friend.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey thought about what Mandy had said, as he made his way home. Did he love Ian? Maybe. They hadn’t really been dating for too long, but he definitely liked him. A lot. Like, _a lot,_ a lot. And if Ian could feel his indecision about his feelings and thought he was going to break up with him? Fuck.

Ian could declare his feelings, but Mickey sure as fuck wasn’t gonna.

As he walked up to his door, Mickey could see the man himself outside his door, looking rather pissed off. ‘Gallagher?’ Mickey called. ‘The fuck are you doing?’

Ian spun around and, upon seeing who it was, gave a sheepish smile. ‘Thought you were ignoring me.’

‘Nah, man. I was at Mandy’s,’ Mickey said, stepping around him to get to the door and unlock it. ‘How long have you been here for?’

‘Almost ten minutes,’ Ian replied, stepping into the apartment.

‘Why didn’t you text me? Jesus Christ,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and dumped his bag on the kitchen table.

‘That probably would’ve been a good idea, yeah,’ Ian admitted, shedding his coat.

‘Probably. I’m not the one with the fancy college education and I could’ve told you that.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You’re smart, too, though.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘How was your meeting?’

‘Good,’ Ian smiled. ‘Just going over a few bits and pieces.’

‘Anything interesting?’

Ian chewed on his lip. ‘Nope.’

‘Sure?’ Mickey asked, made slightly suspicious by the lip chewing.

‘Yeah. Nothing interesting,’ Ian gave a reassuring smile. ‘Did you take the drafts to show Lana?’

‘Yup. Beer?’

‘Nah, I’m good. What did she say?’

‘Loved them,’ Mickey said, cracking into a beer and pouring Ian some orange juice.

‘That’s great,’ Ian said, taking the juice from Mickey, and kissing his cheek in thanks. ‘How are they all?’

‘Good, I guess,’ Mickey took a sip of his drink. ‘Mandy said you think I’m gonna break up with you.’

Ian blinked. ‘Why would she tell you that?’

‘Because she’s a nosy bitch.’

Ian frowned. ‘Is she right?’

‘Huh?’

‘Are you gonna break up with me?’

‘No,’ Mickey’s face softened. ‘I’m not.’

‘Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird lately.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Mandy thinks...’

‘Mandy thinks..?’ Ian repeated, waving his hands encouragingly for Mickey to carry on.

‘She thinks...’ Mickey thumbed his bottom lip and glanced briefly at the man beside him. ‘She thinks I’m conflicted about either liking or loving you.’

‘Do you?’

‘Do I what?’

‘Love me?’ Ian asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Mickey scoffed and rolled his eyes. ‘No.’

Ian’s face fell. ‘Oh.’

‘Why? Do you?’

Ian sighed and sat on the couch, putting his juice on the table and looking down at his hands. ‘Well, I mean...’

_Oh shit._ ‘We’re about to have the talk, aren’t we?’ Mickey asked, sitting beside Ian on the couch.

Ian looked up at him and gave him a small smile. ‘It’s okay, we don’t have to. I know you’re kind of... not exactly in touch with your feelings and all. Mandy warned me before we got into anything.’

Mickey’s eyebrows shot into his hair. ‘She did?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘I’m not expecting anything from you and I don’t want you to feel pressured, and it’s only been a few months, but I really do think I –’

‘Don’t finish that sentence,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘Please don’t finish that sentence.’

‘Why not?’

‘Just... Don’t.’

‘Mickey,’ Ian started softly.

‘Don’t,’ Mickey replied sharply. ‘I know what you want to say, and it’s fine, really. But I don’t want to hear it because I can’t say it back.’

‘I don’t care –’

‘I know you don’t care!’ Mickey said, throwing his hands in the air and standing up, before beginning to pace. ‘Please just drop it for now.’

Ian sighed again and stood up in front of Mickey. ‘Okay. Okay, I’ll drop it. But we’re good, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘We’re good.’

Ian smiled and wrapped his arms around Mickey, resting his chin on Mickey’s head. ‘That’s good.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mickey mumbled into the fabric of Ian’s shirt.

‘It’s fine, don’t worry. I knew what I was getting into.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian dropped a kiss to Mickey’s hair. ‘I’m sure.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> matryoshka dolls are often mistakenly called babushka dolls, but a lot of people know them as russian nesting dolls. just in case you were wondering what the fuck i was going on about.


	8. Resistance is Futile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this has taken so long omg

Mickey did not want to be woken up at two a.m. after having come home from work at midnight, and getting into bed at one. He didn’t want it. But he was.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ Mickey growled into his phone, cutting off the annoying fucking ringtone.

‘Are you awake?’ Ian’s voice came quietly through the phone. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’

Mickey rubbed a hand over his face and fell backwards onto his bed. ‘It’s fine. Only got to sleep an hour ago. What’s up?’

‘Are you working tomorrow morning?’

‘Nah, man. Got Tuesdays off.’

There was a happy intake of breath. ‘I have the day off tomorrow. Can I come over?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Mickey yawned. ‘You know you can come over whenever.’

‘Great! I’m on my way!’

‘Wait, what?’ Mickey asked, now considerably more awake. However, Ian had already hung up, and was apparently on his way to Mickey’s apartment. And it was two a.m., so that was a bonus.

Mickey figured he still had about half an hour until Ian would arrive, so he put his phone back on his nightstand, and shoved his face into a pillow.

It seemed only like moments later when his phone went off with a text from Ian to say he was outside. Mickey groaned and hauled himself out of bed towards his front door, flicking on the kitchen light as he went past.

Mickey unlocked and opened his door to be faced with a grinning Ian. ‘Why are you here? It’s two in the morning.’

‘No, it’s _half past_ two,’ Ian replied, pecking Mickey’s cheek and making his way in.

‘Whatever. Why are you here?’

Ian paused in taking his coat off. ‘Do you want me to go?’

Mickey sighed deeply and sat on the arm of his couch. ‘Nah, man. But it’s whatever the fuck time, and we should both be asleep.’

Ian smiled apologetically. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘So you thought, “You know what? I’m gonna go see Mickey”, and now here you are?’

‘At least I called first.’

‘Small mercies,’ Mickey rubbed a hand over his eyes and stood up. ‘Did you want to do anything? Or can I go back to sleep.’

Ian walked the short distance between them and placed his hands on Mickey’s hips. ‘I didn’t have any plans,’ he murmured, raising an eyebrow suggestively and biting his lip.

‘You came over here for a bootycall?’ Mickey asked incredulously. ‘Gallagher, I’d fall asleep while you’re balls deep.’

‘So is that off the menu?’

‘Um. Yeah.’

‘Okay,’ Ian sighed and ran his thumbs over Mickey’s hipbones. ‘We could just go to bed, I suppose. I might fall asleep with you.’

‘I hope so,’ Mickey said. ‘Are you okay?’

Ian nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Convincing,’ Mickey snorted. He reached up and put his arms around Ian’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He kissed Ian’s temple and stepped back. ‘I’ll be in bed.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘I’ll be right there.’

Mickey nodded, stepping fully out of Ian’s arms and going back to bed. A few minutes later, he felt the bed dip as Ian climbed in. Mickey rolled over towards the centre of the bed and put his arm over Ian’s waist. ‘You are alright, right?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Ian said, smiling reassuringly. ‘I promise.’

‘Promises never meant anything to me,’ Mickey muttered.

‘Well, mine should.’

‘It’s not personal. It’s just how I’m... built.’

‘I know.’

‘Mmkay. Imma go to sleep now, and you should try to do the same,’ Mickey murmured, burying his face into Ian’s shoulder.

Ian kissed Mickey’s hair and sighed. ‘Yeah, okay. Night, babe.’

‘Night, gingerbread.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey woke up alone the next morning. It felt like his nose was twitching involuntarily as the smell of coffee wafted towards him from the kitchen. Mickey was frowning before he even opened his eyes, but as he rolled blindly out of bed, then blinked rapidly as he stepped into his kitchen, he remembered that he wasn’t alone in his apartment. That explained the coffee, at least.

‘Oh, you’re up!’ Ian smiled, bringing a couple of plates of French toast to the kitchen table. ‘I was just about to wake you.’

‘You made French toast?’ Mickey asked, plopping into a seat at the table. ‘Why did you make French toast? That’s your apology food.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey yawned, eyeing his boyfriend suspiciously. ‘You made it after that time you got jizz all over my face and like up my nose and shit, and after the time you drew blood after biting my shoulder too hard, and after Radar did a shit on my floor...’ Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘I could go on.’

‘Ah, no. It’s fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, pretty sure,’ Ian bit his lip as he started pouring two mugs of coffee. ‘I suppose it’s an apology for waking you up at three this morning.’

‘Ah,’ Mickey nodded and took a sip of his coffee. ‘I forgot that happened.’

‘Really?’

‘I can barely remember things when I’m awake, man. How the fuck do you expect me to remember what happens when I’m asleep?’

‘Valid point,’ Ian grinned. ‘What do you wanna do today?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I usually spend my Tuesdays in the studio, but we can do something else.’

‘Great! I brought over a bunch of movies we can watch.’

‘You have shitty taste in movies.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘You do.’

‘No!’

Mickey laughed. ‘What’s in the bag then?’

‘Um. Well. _Mean Girls_ is one. _The Bodyguard_ is another. Every _Harry Potter_ movie I could find...’

‘Yup, I was right,’ Mickey sipped his coffee. ‘Shitty taste.’

 

* * *

 

_‘AND I E-I WILL ALWAYS LOOOVE YOOOU, I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOU!’_

‘I thought you said this movie was shit.’

‘Shut up, Gallagher!’ Mickey said, backhanding Ian across the chest. ‘I said it was shit, not that I didn’t _like_ it.’

‘I honestly was not expecting to find out I was dating a wannabe Whitney Houston when I brought this over.’

‘Yup, well. Get over it,’ Mickey grinned, swaying in time with the music.

‘You’re weird.’

‘And you love it.’

‘Yup.’

Mickey coughed awkwardly before turning back to the last few scenes of the movie, wiping away a few tears as subtly as he could as Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston parted ways.

‘Are you crying right now, Mickey?’

‘Hell no, I ain’t crying.’

‘Really? Look here?’ Ian asked.

Mickey turned to look at Ian in suspicion, which turned out to be not totally unfounded, because there was a _click!_ and Ian grinned as he tapped the phone a few times. ‘The fuck did you just do?’ Mickey asked, glaring at the phone.

Ian smiled innocently, then started laughing a few seconds later at his screen. ‘Oh my God.’

‘What?’

‘I sent Mandy a Snapchat of you crying and said “Guess what we’re watching”. She just replied with “You’re watching _The Bodyguard_ aren’t you?” then another one saying you apparently always cry at the end,’ Ian grinned, poking his boyfriend in the ribs.

‘If you’re not crying, you’re a fucking robot,’ Mickey replied, sniffing indignantly.

‘It’s really not that sad, Mick.’

‘Fuck off, gingerass.’

‘I’m really enjoying all these cute little nicknames you’re coming up with.’

‘I don’t fucking doubt it.’

Ian grinned. ‘Wanna watch another movie? Or do something else?’

Mickey sniffed again and bit his lip as he thought. ‘You ever played Battleships?’

‘Of course.’

‘What about strip battleships?’

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘I am intrigued.’

‘So you wanna play?’

‘Obviously.’

 

* * *

 

‘What else you got in that bag of tricks?’ Mickey asked, staring up at the ceiling from his position on the floor. Just like he had hoped, the strip battleships had turned into mid-morning sex in the middle of his living room.

‘No idea,’ Ian said, flopping his head to the side to grin at Mickey. ‘I packed random stuff into it as I was leaving my apartment at two in the morning.’

‘So it’s literally a bag of surprises.’

‘It is,’ Ian agreed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. ‘Let’s investigate.’

‘Um. No. Let’s lie here a bit longer,’ Mickey said, hauling him back down again, then rolling halfway onto him. ‘We’re in the sun.’

‘We might burn from lying here in the sun, Mick,’ Ian paused. ‘Or burst into flames.’

‘Your head is already on fire,’ Mickey commented, running his fingers through Ian’s hair.

Ian grinned. ‘How adorable.’

‘I am adorable.’

‘I’m not going to contest that.’

‘Good, because resistance is futile.’

Ian laughed. ‘I’m married to a dork.’

Mickey blinked and pushed himself backwards a little bit. ‘We’re not married.’

‘Did I say married?’

‘Um. Yes.’

‘Oh. Whoops.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and jabbed Ian in the chest. ‘Why do I feel like that “Whoops!” contains ulterior motives?’

‘A simple “Whoops!” can convey ulterior motives?’ Ian asked innocently.

‘Clearly.’

‘Clearly,’ Ian sighed. ‘It was a slip of the tongue. Maybe wishful thinking. I don’t know.’

‘Wishful thinking, huh?’

‘Can’t I have dreams?’

‘You can have dreams,’ Mickey conceded. ‘Just not ones that put me in awkward positions.’

‘Are you in an awkward position right now?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘We’re both _completely_ naked after having just finished some great sex, _I’m_ hovering over your dick, and _you_ just said we’re married. Does that not read as even remotely awkward to you?’

Ian bit his lip and scrunched his face. ‘Well, when you put it like that...’

‘I do put it like that.’

‘Yeah, I know. I heard,’ Ian sighed again and cupped Mickey’s cheek gently. ‘I’m sorry I said we were married. It was a complete accident.’

Mickey’s scowl slipped into a grin. ‘I know. I was just fucking with you.’

Ian slapped him lightly on the chest. ‘You’re an asshole.’

‘And you love it!’

‘I do,’ Ian grinned, flipping them over and grinding against Mickey. ‘We’ve already established that.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey nodded, pulling Ian’s down into a kiss. ‘Wanna go for round two, before we delve into the bag of surprises?’

‘I could go for round five, babe.’

‘Not happening. This floor is fucking hard,’ Mickey paused. ‘I think three rounds would be more than acceptable.’

‘Definitely,’ Ian agreed, nipping Mickey’s collarbone. ‘Radar gets treats each time, remember?’

‘Mhmm. We’re stopping at three rounds so your dog does get overweight, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Carpet burn has nothing to do with it.’

‘Nope.’

‘Good call.’

 

* * *

 

_u left ur dvds here gallagher_

_which ones?_

_all ur girly shit? the bodyguard etc_

_yeah i thought u might want it? u seemed to enjoy it more than me_

_oh_

_that okay?_

_yeah it’s fine. busy on saturday night?_

_not that i recall?_

_good. come to mine?_

_of course. organised us a date night did u?_

_nope_

_i'll pretend to believe u_

_good bc it’s true_

_oh?_

_mmmmmm and bring old clothes ur okay to have paint on_

_are we painting? are u painting me? ARE WE DOIN EXTREME TWISTER AGAIN???_

_no and no_

_so one is a yes?_

_maybe_

_;) do i get to know which one?_

_nope otherwise it’s not a surprise is it_

_it’s a surprise?_

_obviously_

_ooooooooh okay i'll be there_

_i know u will_

_♥ got plans for lunch on friday?_

_nope_

_ur at the garage yeah?_

_yeah_

_okay i'll be there at 1_

_kay_

_okay. gtg. talk later babe xx_

_kay_

_have a good day babe! xx_

_thought u had to go_

_i am!_

_hah. u have a good day too babe xx_

_DID U JUST BABE ME??_

_am i not allowed to????_

_NO U DEFINITELY ARE_

_omg don’t act like i discovered the cure for cancer_

_IM SORRY_

_okay calm down. go back to work_

_saY IT AGAIN_

_go back to work?_

_noPE_

_babe?_

_HAJSFHFSDSDK_

_jfc babe. talk later xx_

_oh my gOD UR KILLING ME_

_fuckin christ bye gallagher_

_BYE BABE XXXXXX_

 

* * *

 

Mickey had completely forgotten about his lunch plans with Ian for Friday, until Cody announced over the intercom, ‘Mick, your sister’s ex is here to wine and dine you!’

Mickey rolled his eyes and slid out from under the car he had been working on, to be met with the sight of Ian Gallagher standing over him. ‘Um, hi.’

Ian grinned. ‘Ahoy down below.’

Mickey bit back a laughed and took Ian’s proffered hand to haul himself up. ‘I forgot we were having lunch,’ Mickey admitted. ‘You might have to wait for me to get this shit off my hands.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ian murmured. ‘I thought we could have lunch at your apartment?’

Mickey raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you now?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Well, in that case, I should get my keys so we can get going.’

‘I think that’s wise,’ Ian agreed, following Mickey back through to the reception area. He waited around for Mickey to come back with his things, and paced the small area, watching Cody watch him.

‘Are you two fucking?’ Cody asked loudly, apparently unable to restrain himself any longer.

Ian stopped his pacing and narrowed his eyes at the blond. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Are you fucking?’ Cody repeated. ‘I mean, you’re obviously not just his sister’s ex. Did you dump _her_ for _him_? Trying to get the whole collection or something?’

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘Absolutely not. Mickey and I are friends.’

‘With benefits?’ Cody prodded.

‘Jesus, kid,’ Mickey said, coming through from the staff area. ‘You don’t know when to stop asking people about their private lives, do you?’

Cody shrugged. ‘When I see something, I like to know the whole story. You guys are obviously more than friends.’

Mickey approached the desk and leaned forwards over it, closer to Cody. ‘And you would be well suited to keeping your thoughts to yourself,’ he said quietly. ‘These tattoos aren’t just for show, and I suggest you stop asking about his or my business. Clear?’

Cody flicked his eyes between Mickey and Ian, who was still standing in the waiting area, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Clear.’

Mickey’s face relaxed, and he clapped Cody on the shoulder. ‘Great. I’ll be taking an hour for lunch.’

‘What –’

‘For you inconveniencing me and taking up part of my break,’ Mickey interrupted, turning and leaving through the door. ‘Bye, Cody!’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Cody replied, swallowing audibly. ‘Bye.’

 

* * *

 

As they left and began the short walk to Mickey’s apartment, Ian turned to his boyfriend and nudged him gently in the ribs. ‘You don’t think you were a bit harsh, do you?’

‘Nope,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Why, do you?’

‘I don’t know. He was just being curious.’

‘He doesn’t need to know I get dicks shoved in my orifices,’ Mickey muttered. ‘He’s the very definition of a one person rumour mill.’

Ian huffed in amusement. ‘It wouldn’t be that bad to come out to them, you know. They wouldn’t care.’

Mickey shrugged again as they turned onto the street with his building on it. ‘I know, I just don’t want them to know everything about me.’

‘Keeping the air of mystery, huh?’

‘Something like that,’ Mickey agreed, entering his building and going over to the elevator. ‘Question.’

‘Yeah?’

‘This lunch you planned? It wasn’t the edible kind, was it?’

Ian grinned. ‘Would it matter if it was or wasn’t?’

Mickey shrugged, _again_ , as he opened the door to his apartment. ‘Wouldn’t be opposed to an inedible lunch break, apart from the fact that I do still have to work a few more hours and I skipped breakfast this morning, so I’m fucking _starved_.’

‘Well, I did have a little something with me in case you got peckish. Also, if you don’t stop shrugging, you’re gonna dislocate at least one arm, and I’ll have to jerk you off whenever you feel like having yourself a bit of a good time.’

Mickey sighed dramatically. ‘Good fucking God, what a damn tragedy to have you jerking me off! How would I live?’

Ian laughed. ‘Fuck off, twinkle toes. You know what I mean.’

‘Twinkle toes?’ Mickey repeated, looking absolutely offended. ‘Speak for yourself, gingerass.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian said, kissing Mickey’s jaw as he breezed past into the kitchen. ‘Sit your ass down so I can bring you some food, okay?’

‘Oh, so it _is_ an edible lunch?’ Mickey asked, sitting down at the table and watching Ian expectantly as he moved around the small kitchen.

‘Of course there’s edible lunch.’

‘Thank God.’

Ian grinned and he took down a couple of glasses from a cupboard. ‘So, how’s your day been so far?’

‘Eh. Okay. Did a couple of oil changes this morning, changed a tire, did a thing with one of those twirly things.’

Ian blinked at Mickey, before he got out some bowls. ‘Am I supposed to know what that means?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, waving his hand vaguely. ‘The thing in the thing that does something important. It needs to be replaced every now and then? That thing?’

Ian thought over his (actually really fucking limited) knowledge of cars. ‘Did you replace a cambelt?’

Mickey snapped his fingers and nodded. ‘That’s what I did.’

‘Oh, cool. You wanna go wash your hands in the bathroom so I can finish up your surprise lunch?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but went to the bathroom anyway. He scrubbed viciously at his nails and hands, removing the majority of the grease and built up gunk from his hands, but still leaving a slight film of grime on his skin. That was one thing he hated about being a mechanic – he was too lazy to use gloves, and the shit he ended up getting on his skin had a tendency to stick around.

When he returned to the kitchen, he saw Ian standing happily at the bench, apparently waiting for Mickey’s return to bring out the surprise. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Nope, give me a few minutes to mentally prepare myself for whatever fucking celery and rhubarb or carrot and broccoli health bender shit you’ve got over there.’

‘You’re wrong on both counts,’ Ian said, bringing the cups over. ‘We have strawberry and kiwi juice.’

‘Bearable.’

‘Good. We also have some adorably cut watermelon pieces,’ Ian said, bringing over a plate of watermelon slices in the shape of teddy bears.

‘Um.’

‘And...’ Ian grinned and drummed his hands against the counter top, before victoriously holding up the bowls. ‘Russian salad!’

‘Fuck yeah!’ Mickey cried, feeling himself begin to instantly salivate. ‘Gimme.’

Ian gave him a bowl with noticeably more of the salad in it, and sat down opposite his boyfriend and began to eat. ‘You’re welcome.’

Mickey gave him a thumbs up. ‘Thanks, babe,’ he said, with his mouth full of food.

Ian rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. ‘It’s okay.’

‘Not gonna react to the “babe” comment?’

‘Nah, I’m good now.’

‘Great. Remind me to give you something after lunch, yeah?’

‘Okay.’

Mickey nodded, and went back to his food. He quickly finished off the salad, mentally cursing himself for not taking his time with it, and had a few watermelon bears. He even finished off his juice, and waited for Ian to finish up with his food, before getting up and returning a few moments later.

‘Is that my present?’ Ian asked, nodding towards Mickey’s clenched hand.

‘Might be.’

‘So I don’t have to remind you about it?’

‘Nope.’

‘Oh, good. Should I close my eyes or something?’

‘Don’t give a shit. Just hold out your damn hand,’ Mickey said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Ian shut his eyes anyway, and held out his cupped hands. ‘Oh boy, I’m excited.’

‘Don’t be,’ Mickey replied, dropping something hard and cold into Ian’s hands.

Ian opened his eyes, then looked swiftly up to Mickey upon seeing what it was. ‘Seriously?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘You pretty much live here already. Might as well give you a key.’

‘Mickey...’ Ian trailed off, seemingly lost for words.

‘Don’t mean nothing.’

‘I mean,’ Ian said, looking down at the key, and ignoring Mickey’s words. ‘Are you sure you wanna give me this?’

Mickey frowned. ‘Should I take it back?’

‘No! No, I didn’t mean _that_.’

‘I would hope not,’ Mickey said, walking over to sit on his couch. ‘I just thought you might want a key so you wouldn’t have to wake me up to let you in next time you want to come over at three in the morning.’

‘It was half past two,’ Ian mumbled, sitting down beside him. ‘Thank you for the key.’

‘It’s whatever.’

‘Good to know I’m special, then.’

‘Nah, not because you’re special. Because you’re pretty,’ Mickey grinned.

‘Pretty, huh?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘I can live with that.’

‘Good,’ Mickey said, leaning over to kiss Ian softly. ‘We’ve still got half an hour before I need to be back, so you want some inedible lunch?’

‘Are you talking about dick stuff?’

‘I am most definitely talking about dick stuff.’

‘Then I am most definitely in.’

‘You will be soon.’

 

* * *

 

_hey can i come over?_

_ur meant to be comin over later anyway but ye if u want. u got a key now. let urself in._

_kay. be there soon xx_

_i'm in bed. see u when ur here_

_okay_

 

* * *

 

‘Mickey?’

‘Mm.’

‘You still awake?’ Ian murmured, toeing his boots off, stripping down a few layers, and slipping into Mickey’s bed.

‘Nope,’ Mickey rolled over to face Ian. ‘What’s up?’

Ian bit his lip and ignored the question, instead sliding his hands over Mickey’s skin, and placing light kisses under his jaw.

‘Man, you gotta stop coming over for bootycalls when I’m tryna sleep,’ Mickey mumbled, running his fingers through Ian’s hair.

‘’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘Mm, not really,’ Ian agreed, stopping with his kissing but continuing to stroke his hands up and down Mickey’s back. ‘I have to tell you something.’

‘Is it something that’s probably gonna lead into sex?’ Mickey asked with a yawn.

‘Dunno.’

‘Shit, man. It’s something serious, then?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Lay it on me.’

Ian sighed and furrowed his brow. ‘When I was here on Tuesday morning and burst in at two a.m., I was going to tell you.’

‘What is it?’

‘On Monday, I got offered a new job. Not starting soon, but in a few months. Not permanent, either.’

‘That’s great!’ Mickey smiled. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Because I don’t know if I’ll take it,’ Ian admitted quietly.

‘Why wouldn’t you take it?’

‘Because...’ Ian sighed and rolled onto his back, apparently not wanting to face Mickey. ‘It’s not here in New York.’

‘That’s not the end of the world,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘We can commute or something.’

‘It would be a long distance commute.’

‘How long? Chicago, long? Or L.A, long?’

‘Neither.’

Mickey frowned. ‘Where’s the job?’

‘It’s, uh,’ Ian laughed quietly and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. ‘It’s in London.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrugs*


	9. My Ducks Got Your Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may have noticed the rating has officially changed. the smut has arrived. apologies in advance to jojo for ruining that with my live-snapchatting of the process.

If Mickey wasn’t fully awake, he definitely was now. ‘Like,’ he propped himself up on an elbow and frowned down at Ian. ‘England?’

Ian nodded. ‘That’s the one.’

‘Fuck, Gallagher,’ Mickey groaned. ‘That is not exactly ideal pre-coital conversation.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘When would you start?’

‘May twenty-second of next year,’ Ian replied. ‘I mean, it’s definitely not starting any time soon, because that’s in like six months, but they told me a position was opening up for a bit, and want me to go fill in.’

‘How long for?’ Mickey asked calmly.

‘Between six and eight months. Maternity leave.’

‘Oh,’ Mickey flopped onto his back. ‘Definitely not a permanent position, then?’

‘Nah. Not unless something opens up.’ At Mickey’s brief look of concern, Ian gave him a small smile. ‘The chances of that happening are really small though, don’t worry.’

‘Not worried,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘How would your work feel about it?’

‘It’s an internal transfer. It’s a branch of the company I work for now.’

‘Oh.’

‘They’ve given me until the first of April to decide, so I can always say no. If you want me to stay, I will.’

‘Nah, man,’ Mickey said, smiling weakly. ‘I don’t wanna hold you back in your career. Go if you want.’

‘But –’

‘At least think about it, okay? I don’t want to be responsible for taking the opportunity from you. Your decision, and I’ll support you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ian asked, biting his lip. ‘You sound like you’re trying to get rid of me.’

‘Nah, man. Definitely not. But if it’s not permanent, then it could be a really good experience, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian echoed. ‘Not permanent. I think we would be okay for a few months.’

‘I would be. You’re a bit of a sex fiend,’ Mickey joked.

‘I wouldn’t cheat on you,’ Ian said, hitting Mickey’s arm lightly. ‘Only room in my life for one shortass pancake stack.’

‘Guessing I’m the shortass pancake stack, right?’

‘Right.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Yeah, alright. Go to sleep now, gingerbread. Long day tomorrow.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian muttered, wiggling under the blankets. ‘That doesn’t sound promising.’

‘Just you wait,’ Mickey replied, wrapping his arms around Ian, and yanking the blankets up over them. ‘Night.’

‘Mm, night. Love you, babe.’

‘Ditto.’

 

* * *

 

Ian, for once, woke up later than Mickey. Granted, not by _much_ because the sheets were still warm, so Ian figured that Mickey had just gone to take a leak, because it was only seven, and usually you couldn’t pay him to get up earlier than nine on a day he wasn’t working.

Sure enough, Ian heard the toilet flush, and a few moments later, Mickey appeared in the doorway, running his hands through his hair to push it back. ‘Hey,’ Mickey smiled, climbing back into bed and worming his way into Ian’s warmth. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m okay,’ Ian said, throwing an arm across Mickey’s back to bring him closer to his chest. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay, too, I guess. Trying not to think about what you said last night.’

‘Then let’s not talk about it, okay?’

‘Fine with me,’ Mickey agreed, shoving his face into Ian’s collarbone.

‘So, what did you have planned for today?’ Ian asked, changing the subject.

‘Surprise. Started with sleeping in past seven, though. That much should be pretty obvious.’

Ian chuckled, and the sound vibrated through Mickey’s core. ‘Yeah, pretty obvious. Do I get any other hints?’

Mickey looked up at Ian and rolled his eyes. ‘What are you _not_ getting about “surprise”?’

Ian grinned. ‘Sorry. It’s a surprise. Got it. We’ll go back to sleep then.’

‘Good idea,’ Mickey agreed, moving his face back into its previous position.

‘Very good.’                                                         

Mickey wiggled around a bit more, before dipping his head and tucking it under Ian’s chin. He huffed out in frustration and squirmed further down the bed until he could feel his toes reaching the edge of the mattress. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered.

‘You okay there?’ Ian asked, amusement clear in his voice.

‘No,’ Mickey replied. ‘Can’t get comfy.’

‘Yeah, I sort of figured.’

Mickey jabbed him in the leg and turned over so his back was to Ian. Somehow, Mickey manoeuvred himself so that he was laying widthways across the bed, with his ass pressed against Ian’s crotch, his legs dangling over Ian’s waist, and his feet sticking out of the bed. ‘Better.’

‘Babe,’ Ian murmured, idly stroking a hand over Mickey’s calf. ‘You’re gonna suffocate.’

‘At least I’ll die fucking comfortable.’

‘You won’t realise you’re comfortable because you’ll be _dead_ , dumbass.’

Mickey squirmed around again, kicking out against the sheets to use them as leverage, and wiggled his way up Ian’s body from his position by Ian’s feet. He stuck his head out in front of Ian and levelled him with a glare.

Ian’s face cracked into a grin and he bit his lip in a vain attempt to try and disguise it. Mickey’s hair was fluffy, sticking out in little tufts all over his head, and it was utterly adorable.

‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ Mickey asked.

‘You look so cute right now.’

‘Bitch, I always look cute,’ Mickey said, squinting at the light and ducking back under the sheets.

‘Where’d you go?’ Ian called, waving his arm around in the bed to try and find his missing boyfriend.

‘Fuckin’ cold out,’ Mickey’s muffled voice replied. ‘Get your stupid ginger ass in here.’

Ian snorted in amusement and pulled the sheets up over his head, then twisted around and moved towards the centre of the bed. ‘Marco?’

‘Who the fuck’s Marco?’

‘Well, actually, he was the boyfriend of my sister’s boyfriend’s ex-wife, but you’re meant to say “Polo”, Mick.’

‘Why the fuck would I do that?’

‘Have you never heard of Marco, Polo before?’ Ian asked, feeling his hand hit flesh.

‘Ow,’ Mickey protested quietly. ‘No, I fuckin’ haven’t.’

‘Really?’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey said, grabbing Ian’s hand and putting it on his face. ‘I’m right here, dumbass.’

‘What happened to “gingerass”?’ Ian smiled, stroking his thumb along Mickey’s cheekbone.

‘Can’t tell if you’re ginger or not. Too dark in here.’

‘It’s not that dark.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ Mickey replied, placing his hand on Ian’s arm, and following the length of it to his shoulder, then down to his waist and lazily stroking his hip.

‘Maybe you should get your eyes checked,’ Ian suggested.

‘Why? Would you not be as hot as you are now?’ Mickey grinned.

Ian laughed and moved his hand to the back of Mickey’s neck. ‘Oh no, definitely not.’

‘Hmm. Then I think I’ll bear with the dark for now.’

‘You saying you wouldn’t date me if I wasn’t hot?’

‘Nah, I’m saying you’re ruining the surprise of your not-hot status.’

‘God, you’re such a dork,’ Ian murmured.

‘Absolutely am,’ Mickey agreed, pulling Ian closer and swinging his leg over Ian’s thigh to trap him.

‘Ooh,’ Ian said lowly, kissing the underside of Mickey’s jaw. ‘Was this part of your plan for today? Ambushing me with blanket fort sex?’

‘Hell no,’ Mickey said, tangling his fingers in Ian’s hair. ‘But the plan is definitely up for debate.’

‘May I submit a proposal for today’s plan, then?’ Ian asked, moving his way down Mickey’s throat and biting the junction between neck and shoulder.

Mickey hummed contentedly. ‘I suppose.’

Ian moved his hand down Mickey’s back and dipped his fingers under the band of Mickey’s pants. ‘I think we should spend the entire day having lazy blanket fort sex.’

‘Hah,’ Mickey snorted, lifting his hips to allow Ian to push his sweats down. ‘Not the whole day. Definitely prepared to sacrifice a few hours of sleep, though.’

‘Good,’ Ian murmured.

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Mickey nodded, his breath hitching as Ian squeezed his ass lightly.

Ian laughed and grinded against Mickey’s thigh. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘Well I’m thinking we should probably be sleeping still,’ Mickey said, letting out a small sigh as Ian’s teeth grazed the side of his throat.

‘No, that’s pretty much the opposite to what I’m thinking.’

‘Oh?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian moved his hand from Mickey’s ass to down the front of his sweats, giving him a few swift strokes. ‘I think we’re wearing too much clothing.’

Mickey groaned as Ian ran his thumb over the head of his dick. ‘Mm, that would’ve been my next guess.’

‘Are you seriously saying you didn’t plan out some igloo sex?’ Ian asked, stroking the underside.

‘Nuh uh. Get your fucking pants off.’

‘As you wish,’ Ian said, taking his hand away to yank his pants off, while Mickey did the same with his own. ‘Lube?’

‘Your side,’ Mickey said, running his hands over Ian’s back, down to his ass, and to the front to dance his fingertips over his dick. ‘It’s always on your side.’

Ian reached an arm out and fumbled around for the bottle of lube they kept somewhere on his side of the bed. ‘So it is.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Mickey said, hearing the lid click open.

‘Not surprised as su- _ahh_ -ch,’ Ian gasped. ‘Just never really noticed.’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey replied, flicking his wrist slightly. ‘Now hurry the fuck up and get on me, Gallagher.’

‘Jesus, hold on for a sec, I’m _coming_.’

‘You fucking better not be coming,’ Mickey growled. ‘Gimme the lube.’

Ian frowned and held the bottle to where he thought Mickey might be. Apparently he got the right general area, because the bottle was taken from his hand, and he was pushed backwards onto the mattress. ‘Mick, what are you doing?’

‘You’re taking too long, asshole,’ Mickey said. He stuck his hand out of the bed and flicked the comforter away, so only the sheets were covering most of them. ‘Oh, look at that! Light!’

Ian snickered as Mickey looked at the sheet in some weird form of awe, like he had forgotten that sheets weren’t impenetrable. ‘Now who’s taking too long?’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey said, squirting some lube on his fingers and reaching behind himself to press the tip of one finger inside his ass. He bit his lip and shut his eyes as he pushed it slowly in further.

‘Oh, fuck, Mick,’ Ian groaned, pumping himself as he watched his boyfriend slide his index finger in and out of his ass.

‘See? This is how you get shit done,’ Mickey gasped, adding a second finger and twisting them as much as he could.

‘Holy shit,’ Ian said, reaching for the lube and drizzling some over his dick. He stroked himself, spreading the liquid along his length. ‘Need you, Mick.’

‘Mm, nah,’ Mickey sighed, furrowing his brows as he tried to find his prostate, and barely grazed it. ‘You made me wait with your shit about the lube.’

‘What, because I couldn’t remember where it was?’ Ian asked, moving his other hand down to roll his balls.

‘Exactly,’ Mickey nodded, slipping a third finger in and moaning at the feeling.

‘Fuck, Mick,’ Ian rumbled. ‘You ready yet?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey rasped. He gave Ian’s dick a few quick tugs, before straddling his waist and guiding the head towards his hole and sinking slowly down, feeling coarse hairs and strong thighs under his ass.

‘Oh, _gosh_ ,’ Ian gasped, grabbing Mickey’s waist and running his thumbs over his hipbones. ‘Gosh.’

‘Did you just say gosh?’ Mickey asked, as he adjusted to the feeling of Ian inside him. ‘The fuck?’

‘I – _golly_ – sorry, shit,’ Ian rambled, jerking his hips up into Mickey’s body. ‘Gosh.’

‘Stop saying that, fuck,’ Mickey growled, leaning forwards to silence Ian with his tongue, as he began to move slowly back and forth, picking up the pace until he was riding Ian furiously, and the younger man beneath him was writhing and moaning.

‘Oh, _God,_ Jesus,’ Ian said, jerking his hips up again, and accidentally brushing Mickey’s prostate.

‘Fuck,’ Mickey moaned. ‘Flip.’

Ian nodded, and grabbed Mickey around his waist, as he flipped them over and began pounding into Mickey, grazing his prostate with every thrust. Ian leaned down and put his mouth close to Mickey’s ear as he murmured, ‘Come for me, babe.’

‘I’m almost –’ Mickey moaned, tightening his legs around Ian. ‘Ugh, fuck.’

‘Come on, babe,’ Ian coaxed, nipping Mickey’s shoulder. ‘Come for me.’

‘Shit,’ Mickey moaned. ‘I’m gonna –’

‘Mickey,’ Ian whispered. ‘Mickey.’

Mickey cried out as he came in hot strings across their chests. A few moments later, Ian followed, filling Mickey with his seed.

He collapsed onto Mickey and rolled away, chest heaving. ‘Fuck, Mick.’

Mickey nodded and said, as he tried to regain control of his breathing, ‘So, that was a good start to the morning, I think.’

‘Definitely with you on that one,’ Ian agreed, reaching for Mickey’s hand and lacing their fingers together, so he could bring their hands to his mouth and kiss the back of Mickey’s.

He thought about bringing up how much he would miss Mickey in London, but ultimately, Ian decided that would be somewhat of a mood killer.

 

* * *

 

‘Babe.’

‘Mmph.’

‘I don’t know what your plans were for today,’ Ian murmured, stroking his hand idly over Mickey’s waist. ‘But I hope they didn’t include starving me.’

‘Nah,’ Mickey yawned. ‘You’re supposed to go make us some breakfast while I go organise part of the surprise date.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Mm,’ Mickey hummed, tilting his head to look up at his boyfriend. ‘So if you wanna go get that started...’

Ian grinned and kissed Mickey lazily. ‘I think we should clean up first, actually. Forgot to before we fell asleep again.’

Mickey frowned and scratched at the dried patch of jizz on his stomach. ‘Huh.’

‘Yeah. You’re probably a bit of a mess. Shoulda taken the time to clean up.’

Mickey huffed. ‘Ain’t nobody got time for that.’

‘Really?’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘You should have a shower. Can’t be feeling great in the ass area.’

‘Not fantastic, no,’ Mickey agreed, scrunching his face up. ‘No point in having a shower.’

‘Ooh, is this to do with the surprise?’

‘Obviously,’ Mickey swatted Ian’s chest and pushed himself up. ‘Go make me food, wench.’

‘Wench?’

‘I gotta clean up, as you so helpfully pointed out.’

‘Doesn’t explain the “wench” comment.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I don’t have any way to explain it. Just go make food before you start absorbing part of yourself because you’re so hungry.’

‘I’m not _that_ hungry,’ Ian protested.

Mickey raised his eyebrows as Ian’s stomach let out a long rumble. ‘Clearly.’

‘Fine, I’ll do food.’

‘You always do food.’

‘Probably because you burn whatever you make, even if it doesn’t involve heat.’

‘Oh, fuck off, you pasty-assed know it all.’

‘Excuse you,’ Ian said haughtily, sitting up on the bed and swinging his legs over the side. ‘You love my pasty ass.’

‘Never said I didn’t,’ Mickey shrugged, rolling off the bed and walking over to stand between Ian’s legs. ‘It was a feedback sandwich.’

‘A feedback sandwich?’ Ian asked, tugging Mickey closer by the backs of his thighs. ‘You know that that is?’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey grinned, running his fingers through Ian’s hair. ‘Pasty ass was the nice thing between two other things.’

‘I think the word you’re looking for is “insults”.’

‘Dunno, man,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘You wanna let go of me so I can get cleaned? I’m fucking freezing.’

‘Sure a shower wouldn’t just be easier?’

‘Nope.’

‘Mmkay,’ Ian kissed Mickey’s hip and stood up. ‘I’ll go do food.’

‘Make sure there’s bacon involved.’

‘Will do,’ Ian smiled, letting go of Mickey to find his pants and go off into the kitchen.

Mickey went into the bathroom and hummed along with the music Ian was playing through the speakers in the kitchen, as he cleaned the dried spunk off his stomach and from between his legs and ass. Satisfied that he had removed the majority of it – because a couple of little patches weren’t going to kill him, honestly – Mickey made his way back to his bedroom for pants, then went to the kitchen for breakfast.

‘French toast again?’ Mickey asked, sitting down at the table.

‘Mm,’ Ian nodded, putting a plate with toppings down on the table. ‘Apology food, right? Kinda figure it’s relevant after I sort of sprung my... news on you last night.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Had to happen sooner or later.’

‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’

‘I _know_ I’m right,’ Mickey said, dumping a few pieces of bacon on his toast and squirting maple syrup on top.

‘Maybe, but not about that flavour combination.’

‘Oh, fuck off.’

‘So what are we actually doing today?’ Ian asked. ‘Or are you keeping it a surprise until the very last moment?’

Mickey finished his bite and took a sip of his coffee. ‘I’ll give you two guesses.’

‘Hmm... You’ve said it’s not day-long igloo sex,’ Ian mused, slowly stirring his tea. ‘So we’re either decorating your Christmas tree, or painting something?’

‘You see a tree anywhere?’

‘Are we buying one?’

‘No.’

‘Then we’re painting.’

‘Ding.’

Ian brightened. ‘Really? You’re gonna let me play in your studio?’

‘Something like that,’ Mickey smiled.

‘Are we doing something with that fucking huge canvas you made me haul up here a few days ago?’

‘Maybe.’

Ian faked a gasp. ‘Mickey Milkovich has a cute and tender side? And wants to paint together? With _me_? A mere mortal?’

‘Shut up,’ Mickey said, kicking him under the table. ‘Finish your food, okay? Gotta get this show on the road.’

Ian grinned and kicked him back, then ran his foot teasingly up Mickey’s calf. ‘Mhmm.’

They finished their breakfast off, with Ian shooting Mickey annoyingly excited looks throughout, then went off to put on some clothes they didn’t care about too much. Namely, old t-shirts and non-designer ripped jeans.

‘So, what are we doing to the canvas?’ Ian asked, trooping into the studio behind Mickey.

‘No idea,’ Mickey replied, retrieving the canvas from where he had left it leaning against a wall. He ripped the protective plastic off, and propped it up on his easel. ‘You got any ideas?’

‘Nope.’

‘Awesome,’ Mickey muttered, setting up his table with a palette and a bunch of paints. ‘You wanna use brushes?’

‘We could finger paint?’ Ian suggested. ‘Or is that definitely not your style?’

‘Um. Not usually,’ Mickey frowned. ‘We could give it a shot, I suppose.’

‘Great!’ Ian smiled, dipping a few fingers into the puddle of red paint and dragging them diagonally across the canvas. ‘Look at that. Art.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey rolled his eyes, and scooped up some green paint on his finger, and mixed it half-assedly into a bit of blue, then started to carefully paint a square in one corner with his new colour.

‘That’s kinda cool, how the blue and green are still separate in places,’ Ian mused. ‘I wanna do that.’

‘Go for it.’

Ian grinned and got some red and yellow together, and started painting a triangle, making the colours swirl together into orange. After he finished that, he got a bit of purple and started to paint the rest of the canvas with it.

‘What’s with the purple base?’ Mickey asked, putting the finishing touches on his square.

‘I like purple,’ Ian replied, using both of his hands to spread the paint. A few moments later, the rest of the space on the canvas had been taken up by purple, including the streak of red, which had blended with the purple. ‘You’re not thinking creatively.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey frowned, getting some white paint on his hands, and mixing it through the purple in places. ‘This is weird art.’

‘Most people would just call it art,’ Ian laughed, doing his part to add more colours.

‘Jesus.’

‘Yeah. People are weird.’

‘You’re weird.’

‘Yup.’

Mickey laughed and bit his lip as he watched Ian do some sort of interpretive dance while his hands were still firmly planted on the canvas.

‘What?’ Ian asked. ‘Why’re you watching me like that?’

‘No reason,’ Mickey said, casually getting a bit more paint on his hands. ‘You look like you’re having a great time.’

‘I am, I’m –’ Ian was interrupted by Mickey placing his paint covered hand on his cheek. ‘The fuck, Mickey?’

‘You’re becoming one with the paint. I thought I should help,’ Mickey explained, putting his other hand on the other side of Ian’s face.

‘This stuff better be non-toxic,’ Ian said warily.

‘It is, I checked.’

‘Thank God for that,’ Ian sighed. He removed Mickey’s hands, and continued painting, apparently completely nonplussed about his current face situation.

Mickey stood back and watched Ian paint for a little while, as he got really into it and mixed different colours together, to create layers of... whatever the fuck he was doing. After about three minutes, Mickey noticed that Ian had started to focus his energies on something he was doing in the centre of the canvas. ‘The fuck’re you doing, man?’

Ian stepped back and smiled, gesturing at his little masterpiece. ‘Look at it.’

‘I am looking at it. What is it?’

‘You know _exactly_ what it is.’

Mickey frowned. ‘Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, but why is it there?’

‘Because I lo... like you, and you _like_ me, too,’ Ian said, smiling innocently.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but hearts are internationally recognised as a symbol of love,’ Mickey cocked an eyebrow and dunked his hands in paint again. He approached the canvas and eyed it critically.

‘Don’t you touch the symbol of our love,’ Ian warned. ‘I’ll put paint in your hair if you do.’

‘Put paint in my hair and I’ll paint your dick,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Besides, the paint’s not for the canvas.’

‘What’s it for –’

_Slap._ ‘That.’

Ian blinked and burst out laughing. ‘My _ass_?’

‘Gotta claim it somehow, right?’ Mickey grinned. ‘Wait, are you in my shirt?’

‘Technically it’s my shirt now. I borrowed it after Mandy’s costume party and never gave it back.’

‘I love that shirt,’ Mickey mumbled, running his hand nostalgically down the Metallica t-shirt Ian was wearing.

‘You want it back?’

‘Nah, you can keep it, I suppose. ‘

‘Good,’ Ian said, catching Mickey’s hand and lacing their fingers together. ‘Wasn’t gonna give it back, even if you asked.’

‘That’s really rude,’ Mickey replied, looking down to their hands, then back up to Ian’s face. ‘You look ridiculous with that paint on your face.’

‘You put it there.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And I look ridiculous.’

‘Didn’t say it was a bad thing,’ Mickey smiled.

‘Is it a _good_ thing?’ Ian asked, stepping closer to Mickey, and kissing the side of his throat.

Mickey laughed. ‘Nope.’

‘That’s really rude of you.’

‘Well, excuse _me_ if I don’t wanna get paint all up in my face from rubbing it against yours.’

‘You want to rub your face all over mine?’

‘Not right now I don’t.’

Ian grinned and lifted his head to press their cheeks together. ‘Ah, feel that paint on your face.’

‘You’re an idiot,’ Mickey said, pushing his face away. ‘And you smell like paint.’

‘That would be _your_ fault.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Never,’ Ian murmured, as he wrapped his fingers slowly around the back of Mickey’s neck and pulled him forward, until there was less than an inch of space between their faces.

Mickey sucked in a breath and glanced down to Ian’s lips for a few seconds, before he looked back up to be met with clear, hazel eyes. ‘Okay,’ he breathed.

‘Okay,’ Ian agreed, looking down to Mickey’s lips. He leaned in closer and threaded the fingers of his other hand through Mickey’s belt loops. He stopped as his lips ghosted across Mickey’s, then let out a short laugh and kissed his forehead.

Mickey let out a groan and put his head on Ian’s shoulder. ‘Rude.’

Ian laughed again. ‘Come on, babe. Shower? I think we’re done here.’

‘Uh huh.’

 

* * *

 

‘This is a really bad idea,’ Mickey said, sighing as Ian kissed down his torso.

‘Is it?’ Ian asked, sinking to his knees and smiling innocently up at Mickey.

‘Hey, man, you know I’m all up for shower sex –’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘I... Fuck, Gallagher. Something is gonna go wrong. I can feel it. In my ass.’

‘Mm...’ Ian stood back up again and crowded Mickey to one wall, half in the shower’s spray. ‘That’s not a feeling of something going wrong.’

‘Then what the fuck is it?’

Ian’s innocent smile changed into a wicked grin as he put his mouth close to Mickey’s ear and said, ‘Me.’

‘You?’

‘More specifically, my dick, but whatever.’

Mickey frowned. ‘What I’m feeling is definitely not a d– _whoa, okay,_ that’s a dick.’

‘Told you it wasn’t a bad feeling.’

Mickey tipped his head back, whacking it painfully against the wall. ‘Nope, now it’s a good feeling.’

‘Damn right it is,’ Ian said, wrapping his fingers around the backs of Mickey’s thighs and pulling him up, only to slam him back against the wall. ‘Fuck, I hope we don’t slip.’

‘That might’ve been my bad feeling,’ Mickey explained, tightening his legs around Ian’s waist. ‘Don’t worry, my ducks got your back.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘My ducks,’ Mickey repeated, nodding his head towards the floor of the shower.

Ian followed his line of sight to see a rubber mat, shaped like little ducks. ‘When the fuck did that get there?’

‘Mandy got it for me after we started seeing each other. Something about safety.’

‘And you kept it? They’re baby ducks, Mick. They’re gonna be scarred for life after seeing us have sex.’

‘Fuck off, gingerass. The ducks are fucking adorable,’ Mickey sniffed. ‘Now, are you gonna start moving or what the fuck is going on right now?’

Ian grinned and carefully pulled his dick out of Mickey’s ass, going back in even slower. ‘That better?’

‘No, come the fuck on. Fuck me or fuck off.’

‘Jesus, you’re so bossy,’ Ian rolled his eyes and marginally picked up the pace. ‘What happened to safety?’

‘I don’t give a shit about safety, fuck.’

‘The ducks got our backs?’ Ian mocked, pulling out to the head, then slamming back in, drawing out a loud moan from Mickey.

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Do that again. Faster.’

Ian obliged and began sliding in and out of Mickey’s ass at a pace that was fast enough to satisfy Mickey’s “need for speed” request. ‘Better?’

‘Ugh, _fuck,_ shit,’ Mickey replied, screwing his eyes shut, and letting Ian do the work, holding him up against the wall under the water, and raking his blunt nails down Ian’s back. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Jesus, yes!’ Mickey cried, biting his lip until it bled, to stop himself from yelling as Ian found his sweet spot and began nailing it with laser precision.

‘Oh, fuck, you feel so good,’ Ian murmured. ‘So fucking good.’

Mickey clenched his muscles, and pulled out a low moan from Ian. ‘Don’t say shit like that to me.’

‘Shut up,’ Ian groaned.

Mickey smiled to himself and started laughing quietly. ‘You shut up.’

‘No, you shut up,’ Ian replied, speeding up again, as his movements became slightly jerkier.

‘No, you shut up,’ Mickey mocked, feeling his muscles tighten. ‘Oh, shit.’

‘What?’ Ian asked.

Mickey broke into laughter again as he shot white ribbons over their chests. ‘That.’

Ian laughed and leaned his head against Mickey’s shoulder as he came inside him. ‘Gotcha.’

‘Nah, man. Ducks got me.’

Ian grinned as he moved his head and opened his eyes, as he let Mickey down. ‘Woah, what the fuck.’

‘Huh?’ Mickey asked, opening his eyes as well, as his feet touched the ground. ‘Am I blind?’

‘Uh...’ Ian leaned out of the shower and flicked the light switch a couple of times. ‘Nope. I think the power just went out.’

Mickey groaned. ‘Fucking serious?’

‘Sadly.’

‘Shit,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Okay. Help me out?’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ Ian murmured, scooping his release out of Mickey’s ass, and helping to quickly wash off his legs what had already dripped out.

‘Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just don’t wanna be stuck in here in the dark.’

‘Naked and afraid, huh?’

‘Something like that,’ Mickey shrugged, soaping up and being incredibly thankful they had washed the paint off their faces before getting up to anything. ‘You done?’

‘Yup,’ Ian said, shutting off the water, and passing Mickey a towel. ‘Tell me your plan didn’t involve power?’

‘No, I was hoping it would fuck up and shut off, _specifically_ so we could sit together in the dark.’

Ian laughed. ‘Super. So this is going to plan, then.’

‘Perfectly to plan,’ Mickey said sarcastically, drying off and dumping his towel in the hamper. He threw on the first non-painted clothes he found, and went off to the living room to find his emergency flashlight.

‘So, what now?’ Ian asked, appearing from the bedroom and using his phone as a light.

‘We light a bunch of dumbass candles and sit on the floor braiding your hair.’

‘You have candles?’

Mickey shot him a look and opened a drawer in one of the little tables he had around the place. ‘I have enough candles to start a fuckin’ Bed Bath and Beyond.’

‘Holy shit,’ Ian said, impressed, if not mildly alarmed, by the amount of candles Mickey produced. ‘You bought them?’

‘Mandy got them for me, for some dumbass reason.’

‘Are they scented?’

‘How the fuck should I know?’

‘It literally says on the label,’ Ian murmured, holding one of the candles up to his phone. ‘Ooh, vanilla cupcake? We’re lighting that.’

‘Are we?’

‘Yup,’ Ian nodded, setting it aside and combing through the rest of the available candles. ‘Gingerbread? Perfect. Oh wow, midnight jasmine? Chocolate? Coconut and lime? Yes to all!’

‘Calm the fuck down, Gallagher. Enough with the fucking candles,’ Mickey said, shutting the drawer.

‘Fine. I suppose five will be enough to start with.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Five is enough, period.’

‘What are we even going to do?’

‘Fuck if I know,’ Mickey replied, flopping onto his couch and watching Ian tear the plastic off the candles. ‘Strip poker?’

‘What is with you and strip board games?’

‘They’re better.’

Ian raised an eyebrow at him as he lit the candles. ‘Are they?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Getting you naked seems to be my M.O., really.’

‘True.’

‘So what you wanna do, Gallagher?’

Ian sat beside Mickey on the couch and pulled his feet up into his lap. ‘Eat dinner, honestly.’

‘Dunno what’s in my fridge. Probably easier to just eat out.’

‘Or I could eat _you_ out,’ Ian said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Mickey grinned and whacked his foot against Ian’s chest. ‘By candlelight?’

‘What can I say? I’m a true romantic.’

‘Yeah, yeah, Romeo. Get up and check my damn fridge. And take one of these fucking candles with you, because I’m getting a headache from so many different smells floating around.’

‘Aw, babe,’ Ian said, smiling sadly at Mickey. ‘Too fucking bad,’ he shrugged, pushing Mickey’s feet off his lap and getting up to investigate the fridge.

‘You’re so mean to me,’ Mickey called, stretching himself out along the length of the couch.

‘Hey, I just offered to rim you. I’m not that bad,’ Ian replied, peering into the darkness of Mickey’s fridge. ‘Is this still the same pizza from like three weeks ago?’

‘Nah, that’s some gourmet one that the restaurant fucked up yesterday.’

‘Oh cool,’ Ian said, pulling the box out of the fridge, along with a beer for Mickey and orange juice for himself. ‘Cold pizza it is.’

‘Cold pizza by candlelight.’

‘Romantic, huh?’

‘Absolutely,’ Mickey agreed, swinging his legs off the couch so Ian could sit down. ‘Power better come back soon.’

‘What, can’t live without power for a few hours?’ Ian asked, opening the box to be met with a very green pizza.

‘I can, I just don’t want to. How are you so okay with this?’

‘ROTC, Mick,’ Ian said by way of explanation. ‘What pizza is this? Didn’t think you’d like something so... healthy looking.’

‘Free food. It’s some... fuck if I know. Green.’

‘Green pizza.’

‘Obviously.’

‘Well,’ Ian said, taking a bite of the slice he had selected. ‘It’s good.’

‘Course it is. This is fine dining right here.’

‘Know what else would’ve been fine dining?’

‘Let me guess... My ass.’

‘Precisely,’ Ian nodded happily. ‘But I suppose pizza is an okay alternative.’

Mickey stared at him for a moment. ‘God, you’re so weird.’

‘And you _love_ it.’

_Yeah,_ Mickey thought. _I kinda do._ But he didn’t say that, instead just looking away and continuing to quietly eat his pizza.

 

* * *

 

Mickey was fucking tired when he woke up the next morning.

After finishing off their dinner, Ian had decided he was going to follow through and rimmed Mickey until he was basically just a sobbing mess, and after a short recovery, they had gone back into the studio and done some more painting. Mickey had produced another canvas from somewhere, and Ian had taken the reins again, getting paint all over his hands, and up his arms. They had stayed up, painting by candlelight, until the sun was rising on the horizon, and Ian decided a bit of making out in the early morning light was required.

After, they had gone to bed, completely at ease with everything and feeling utterly content.

So yeah, going to bed at about six then waking up again at ten? Mickey was fucked. Nonetheless, he got up and wandered into the kitchen to see Ian walking around and humming.

‘Morning, babe!’ Ian smiled.

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey grumbled, leaning heavily against the counter.

Ian laughed and handed him a mug. ‘Power came back.’

‘What?’ Mickey frowned, looking into his cup. ‘Oh, fuck me. Coffee.’

‘Coffee.’

‘There is a God,’ Mickey sighed, downing half of the scalding hot liquid.

Ian grinned and put his hands on Mickey’s hips. ‘And his name is Ian Gallagher?’

Mickey allowed a small smile as he said, ‘And his name is Ian Gallagher.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you're wondering, yes, there was a direct quote from 'don't hug me i'm scared' in there. (if you know what i'm talking about.) also, this fulfills one of my headcanons, namely the lil duck shower mat. (mandy gave it to mickey and he kept it bc the ducks are really cute.)
> 
> [(you know where to find me)](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	10. He'll Need Fuckin' Bolt Cutters

‘Remind me again why I let you talk me into this,’ Mickey grunted.

‘Because you love me?’ Ian suggested.

‘Oh, yeah, I’m hauling a fucking huge pine tree into my apartment because I love you.’

‘Do you?’

Mickey shot him a look. ‘Don’t push it. I’m already getting a fucking Christmas tree.’

‘Well, it’s about time you got a damn tree,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I’m happy to be the catalyst for it.’

‘Yeah, you and that bag of tinsel,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Unlock the door so I can get this thing in there.’

Ian laughed as he opened the door and quickly dumped his bags of decorations inside, before helping Mickey to drag the tree into the apartment. ‘You know,’ he said, propping it against the wall. ‘It probably would’ve been easier for you to get a fake tree.’

‘Probably,’ Mickey agreed. ‘But then I’d have to store it.’

‘True,’ Ian said, looking critically around Mickey’s apartment. ‘Jesus, this is probably one of the least festive places I have been in the past few weeks. I even have a tiny tree on my desk at work.’

‘Why the fuck would you do that?’

‘I love Christmas.’

‘Yeah, I noticed. Your apartment probably looks like the inside of Santa’s asshole.’

‘You’ll have to come see,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I feel like I never see my apartment anymore.’

‘That’s because you like slumming it with me.’

‘I wouldn’t say you’re _slumming_ it.’

‘Not as nice as your apartment.’

‘Insert speech about material possessions being the downfall of the human race here,’ Ian said, pulling his jacket off and tossing it over the back of Mickey’s couch. ‘Shall we begin?’

‘Decorating?’ Mickey asked. ‘Go nuts. I wanna sleep.’

‘You got up like an hour ago,’ Ian pointed out. ‘Now help me make your apartment appropriately Christmassy.’

‘No,’ Mickey said, flinging himself onto the couch.

‘No?’

‘I’ll help with the tree, but you can do everything else.’

‘Really?’ Ian asked, his face lighting up like he was a small child in a candy store.

‘Yeah, man. I don’t give a fuck about fairy fuckin’ lights or whatever,’ Mickey kicked his shoes off and crossed his arms under his head, giving Ian a happy smile. ‘Get to work, Christmas fairy.’

Ian tilted his head and crouched beside Mickey on the floor. ‘I’m not going to decorate your entire damn apartment if you’re only going to take everything down.’

‘Never said I was gonna take it down.’

‘Never said you’d leave it up, either.’

Mickey sighed. ‘What’s the least decoration I can get away with?’

‘Fairy lights, festive matryoshka dolls that I found, and tinsel everywhere.’

‘That all?’

‘Obviously the tree and the wreath for on your door.’

‘Obviously,’ Mickey huffed.

‘And little reindeer decorations?’ Ian said hopefully. ‘You gotta admit, they’re cute.’

‘Fuck you. Fine.’

‘Good,’ Ian kissed his cheek and stood up. ‘I’ll find some appropriately Christmassy music, and we can start decorating, okay?’

‘Wait, what?’ Mickey asked, sitting up quickly and getting a bit dizzy. ‘Thought I wasn’t decorating?’

‘Never said that.’

‘You, Ian Gallagher, are a sneaky fucker.’

‘That I am,’ Ian grinned. ‘Now get your ass over here and help me with these fucking lights.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and got up to help Ian with the already tangled lights. ‘How can these fucking things be knotted already?’ he muttered.

‘Dunno. I have something to tell you.’

‘Oh, fuck. What?’

‘My family has decided that they want me to come home for Christmas for a few days, then they’re going to come back here for New Year’s,’ Ian said quickly. ‘And I told them about you and they want to meet you.’

‘If they’re coming up for New Year’s, then they’re probably going to, right?’ Mickey asked, frowning at the lights.

‘Mm... They want you to come back to Chicago, too. Spend Christmas with us.’

Mickey looked up to Ian’s earnest face. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is this you asking or telling?’

‘Bit of both,’ Ian admitted. ‘I’m hoping you’ll say yes, though.’

Mickey dropped the lights, evidently giving up for the moment, and beginning to unpack the matryoshka dolls Ian had got him. ‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yeah, just let me know when. I’ll have to organise time off with work, but should be fine.’

‘Good,’ Ian smiled. ‘They’re all pretty annoyed that they haven’t met you yet.’

‘I’m sure they are,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Can we do your precious fucking decorating, or you got something else to spring on me?’

‘Well...’

‘Oh, Jesus. What now?’

‘My brother is staying for an extra week after New Year’s,’ Ian said, trying to get the tree into the stand.

‘Good for him,’ Mickey said, ignoring Ian’s struggle, and starting to hang decorations on the tree.

‘Yeah, he’s giving a speech on robotics or something. You wanna help me out down here?’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘Fuck if I know. Give me moral support at least,’ Ian huffed.

Mickey watched him in amusement. ‘No. Want a drink?’

‘Coffee would be nice,’ Ian said, standing triumphantly and looking at his slightly wonky, but nonetheless standing, tree. ‘Look, the tree is up.’

‘Super,’ Mickey deadpanned, passing a mug of coffee to Ian as he came back from the kitchen.

‘Yeah, I mean. It’ll do, right?’

‘It’s gonna have to do. I’m not fixing it.’

‘Neither. Decorations?’

‘Knock yourself out,’ Mickey shrugged, sitting on the couch and kicking his feet up onto the table in front of him.

‘Don’t wanna help?’ Ian asked, setting his coffee down and picking up a box of little white snowflakes.

‘Nah, I prefer the view that comes with the decorating.’

‘What, my ass?’

‘Yup.’

Ian laughed and shimmied at Mickey. ‘You’re a pervert.’

‘Or maybe I just know when to appreciate a good view?’ Mickey suggested.

‘Maybe. Or you’re just lazy. Or you’re not in the festive spirit, so you won’t decorate your own fucking tree.’

‘Hey, not all of us have desk jobs, Princess Peach.’

‘Your entire weekend is open. All you do is sleep.’

‘Hey, not _all_ I do,’ Mickey protested.

‘Oh, that’s right,’ Ian nodded thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes you sleep with me.’

‘Sometimes I ride you like my life fucking depends on it, so you can fuck off with calling me lazy.’

Ian grinned and threw a decoration at him. ‘Get over here, you pale assed snowflake.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Would you prefer to wear a Santa hat? Because I can run home and get one for –’

‘So where am I putting this?’ Mickey interrupted, standing smoothly and hanging the snowflake on one of the branches.

‘That’ll do,’ Ian said, bumping his hip against Mickey’s. ‘Are you sure you wanna come to Chicago with me?’

‘Might as well. Got no other plans.’

‘It’ll be fun.’

‘If you say so.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey wasn’t surprised when Ian told him they would be staying at the Gallagher house during their trip back to Chicago. He knew Ian was close to his family, so it didn’t really bother him. Besides, he wasn’t going to shell out for a hotel room when he had a perfectly fine, and _free_ , room waiting for him.

And yeah, he knew the Gallagher house would be loud, he just wasn’t expecting it to be _so_ loud.

When they arrived at the house, having taken a cab from the airport, Ian didn’t even bother knocking on the door. He just opened it, led Mickey inside and up the stairs, where they dumped their bags, coats and scarves, then went down a different set of stairs and into the kitchen.

‘Happy holidays!’ Ian cried, his voice barely registering over all the noise.

‘Ian!’ the room cried back, a bunch of women getting up to smother him.

He was passed around from person to person in the room, and finally arrived back at Mickey with a small child on each leg and another in his arms. ‘Guys, this is my boyfriend, Mickey.’

Mickey waved awkwardly at the room. ‘Hey.’

‘Holy shit, no way!’ a brown haired young woman grinned. ‘Mickey Milkovich?’

‘Mickey Milkovich?’ someone asked from the living room.

‘Yeah, Vee. I swear to God it is.’                                   

‘Mickey Milkovich?’ another person asked.

‘Fuck, okay,’ Mickey said, throwing his hands up. ‘Yes, Mickey Milkovich is dating your brother.’

‘Moving on,’ Ian said. ‘You know my sister, Fiona, right?’

‘Yup.’

‘Okay. Vee and Kev are somewhere in there,’ Ian said, waving his hands towards a long table that had been set up in the living room. ‘Their twins, Amy and Gemma, are attached to my legs. This is my brother, Liam. Carl and Debbie are over there with Sheila, Frank’s daughter, Sammi, and her kid, Chuck.’

‘And Jimmy is out getting beer,’ Fiona added.

Ian frowned as he looked around the room. ‘Lip’s not here?’

Fiona shook her head. ‘He called a few days ago and said he couldn’t come. Something about uncooperative robots.’

‘Can’t he reprogram them?’

‘Not when the robots are Amanda’s parents,’ Fiona grinned. ‘But he’ll still be in NYC for New Year’s.’

‘Okay. Well, sorry we just... barged in. I didn’t think you’d hear us over the noise.’

‘You were right,’ Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘Just in time for dinner, too.’

‘You _do_ know exactly when to come,’ Mickey murmured, receiving a snicker from Ian.

‘Shut up,’ Ian whispered. ‘And don’t be crass, it’s Christmas.’

‘Fuck Christmas.’

‘Didn’t know you were into older guys,’ Ian said, leading Mickey to the table with everyone else. ‘Thought that was kind of my area.’

‘I think even you might draw the line at fucking Santa.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Ian mused. ‘He might be a few centuries past his prime, but I would get free stuff.’

Mickey laughed and shook his head. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

‘Thanks,’ Ian winked.

‘Will you two stop flirting and answer the question?’ Fiona interrupted.

‘Sorry, what?’ Ian asked, smiling innocently at his sister.

‘Drinks?’

‘Two beers.’

‘Not going to ask your beloved?’

‘I know what he likes,’ Ian shrugged.

‘ _Yeah_ , you do,’ Mickey whispered.

‘Jesus Christ, is everything an innuendo with you two?’ Fiona asked, rolling her eyes as she passed them their drinks.

Ian grinned. ‘It’s gonna be a fun few days.’

‘Yeah, well. Just keep it down, okay? Your room is right next to Debbie’s. She doesn’t needa hear that.’

‘Thank you, Fiona, but I’m not a child anymore,’ Debbie sniffed. ‘But I do have earplugs just in case.’

‘Got any spares?’

‘We’re not going to _do_ anything,’ Ian interjected, taking a couple of bread rolls from the bowl being passed around.

‘We’re not?’ Mickey asked, stealing one of the rolls from Ian.

‘No, we’re not.’ At Mickey’s frown, Ian nudged him in the ribs and leaned over. ‘We’ll have to be quiet, but even if we don’t, a few days won’t kill you.’

‘I could fucking tell you differently,’ Mickey muttered.

Ian laughed and starting piling food onto his plate, passing it on to Mickey after he was done. ‘Thought you said Jimmy was just out getting beer?’ he asked Fiona.

‘He is. Cut him some slack, it’s snowing,’ Fiona said simply. ‘He should be back soon.’

‘Sure he didn’t slip off to Brazil?’ Debbie asked.

‘Yeah, or off getting married to a drug lord’s daughter?’ Carl added.

‘Who the fuck is this Jimmy guy?’ Mickey muttered, stealing some of Ian’s carrots.

‘Remind me to catch you up later,’ Ian replied, taking some of Mickey’s mashed potatoes in return.

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

Dinner turned out to be less awkward than Mickey thought it would be. He and Ian seemed to just slide right into the mix of people, and it was like they had been there for years, not a few hours. It was Ian’s home, and he insisted it was Mickey’s now, too.

Despite it being referred to as “Lip’s old room”, the room they were staying in had clearly been Ian’s at some point. There were a few old army posters tacked onto the walls, that Ian just shook his head at in dismissal. Mickey figured it might’ve been something to do with nostalgia, but he didn’t push it. They weren’t really that interesting, anyway.

The bed was comfortable, though, and there was a slight dip in the middle from where the springs had given up, but it was better than things Mickey had slept on in the past. Besides, the dip provided a good spot to accidentally roll into and end up spooning in.

‘So what’s the deal with the Jimmy dude?’ Mickey asked. They were getting ready for bed, having just come back from brushing their teeth.

‘Well,’ Ian said, as he shut the door behind them and pulled his shirt off over his head. ‘Jimmy first turned up as “Steve”. He stole cars then resold them, basically. After a bit of sleuthing by Debbie, we found out his name was Jimmy, and then the situation got a bit awkward after we found out I was kind of fucking his dad.’

Mickey cocked an eyebrow incredulously. ‘You were fucking the father of your sister’s boyfriend?’

‘I mean, yeah,’ Ian said, scratching the back of his neck. ‘I didn’t know Ned was his dad at the time. Besides, he was nice and he bought me stuff.’

‘How old were you at the time?’

‘Fuck... Sixteen? Seventeen?’

‘And he was what, eighty?’

‘God no,’ Ian paused thoughtfully. ‘Sixty, tops. Anyway, Jimmy ran off to Brazil, married a drug lord’s daughter – Estefania, she was pretty cool, actually – and then disappeared _again_ , and come back being called Jack.’

‘What a slippery fucker. Ever call him SteveJimmyJack? In case he forgot what his name was?’

‘Yeah, it took us a few years to stop calling him JimmySteve,’ Ian laughed, coming to sit beside Mickey on the bed. ‘I guess Fiona must love him if they’re still together after all that crap, though.’

‘Must do,’ Mickey agreed. ‘Hey, do me a favour?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Take my shoes off.’

Ian slapped him lightly on the stomach. ‘Do it yourself, you lazy piece of shit.’

‘Ouch,’ Mickey said, kicking his shoes off anyway. ‘So what did you get me for Christmas?’

‘What did I get you for Christmas?’ Ian repeated, scooting over under the covers to his side of the bed.

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey replied, yanking his top off and changing his jeans for a pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed. ‘It’s Christmas eve tomorrow, right? Santa should be coming soon.’

‘Santa won’t be the one coming,’ Ian grinned, pulling Mickey on top of him.

‘You and your fucking jokes,’ Mickey sighed, rolling his eyes.

‘You know you love them,’ Ian said, flipping them, so Mickey was on his back. ‘Wanna know what I got you for Christmas?’ he asked, slipping his knee between Mickey’s legs.

‘Obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ Ian mocked, receiving a hit to the shoulder for his efforts.

‘Don’t be an asshole.’

‘Sorry,’ Ian smiled, kissing Mickey’s shoulder. ‘Well, it’s not here. Not... family appropriate.’

‘My favourite type of present,’ Mickey said approvingly.

‘I think you’re gonna love it.’

‘I might.’

‘You will,’ Ian promised, leaning down to kiss Mickey slowly.

‘Night, guys!’ Fiona said loudly, pushing open the door. ‘Oh, fuck, am I interrupting something? Fuck, I’m sorry,’ she said, leaving again.

‘It’s okay, Fi,’ Ian called, rolling back off Mickey and onto the bed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. ‘We’re not doing anything.’

The door opened again, more tentatively than it had the first time. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Pretty sure.’

‘Okay,’ Fiona said, poking her head in and giving them a smile. ‘Sorry. Just saying goodnight. Got everything you need?’

‘Yeah, Fi,’ Ian nodded. ‘We’re good.’

‘Great. Well, you know where everything is if you _do_ need anything. Just keep it down in here a little?’

‘We will.’

‘Kay. Night, guys.’

‘Night.’

Fiona gave them another smile and left, shutting the door firmly behind herself.

Ian waited for her footsteps to fade away before he dropped off his elbows and onto his back. ‘That could’ve gone worse.’

‘Yeah, could’ve had me with my ankles at my ears and your dick up my ass,’ Mickey agreed.

‘You’re disgusting.’

‘It’s the truth, ain’t it?’ Mickey shrugged.

‘Didn’t say it wasn’t.’

‘Mm. So, you wanna tell me more about my Christmas present?’

Ian snorted and rolled his eyes. ‘No. I think we should sleep.’

‘Boo.’

‘Not boo. We have to get Christmas presents tomorrow.’

‘Are you fucking serious?’

‘Sadly.’

Mickey groaned. ‘What kind of idiot leaves Christmas shopping until the day before? Do you have some wish to be trampled to death by suburban mothers or something?’

‘Nope,’ Ian rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face into Mickey’s shoulder. ‘Just forgot their stuff at home.’

‘So can’t you say “Whoops, left your shit in New York, you’ll get it when you’re there for New Year’s” or something?’

‘Nope.’

‘I fucking hate you.’

‘Of course you do,’ Ian chuckled. ‘Now shut the fuck up so we can sleep.’

‘Douchebag.’

‘Asshole.’

 

* * *

 

‘I swear to God, if you ever leave your Goddamn Christmas shopping this late ever again, you can fucking go by yourself,’ Mickey grumbled, as he and Ian made their way inside the house, each with a couple of bags in hand. ‘Why did you even buy so much shit if you’ve already got some at your apartment? Wouldn’t only one or two extra have been enough?’

‘Uh, because I don’t want to make the littler people wait an extra week?’ Ian suggested, navigating the stairs expertly.

‘Yeah, well. Next time, they can get fucked, alright?’ Mickey said, as he dumped the bags he was carrying onto their bed.

‘Hopefully I won’t forget their stuff next time,’ Ian pointed out, shedding his coat onto the small pile of clothes that was already accumulating on the floor. ‘I got you a couple of things, too, though.’

‘Do I get them today?’

‘Nope, you gotta help me wrap stuff.’

‘Oh, yippee. Something else I love doing,’ Mickey said sarcastically. ‘Can we at least have lunch before the torture begins?’

‘Sure,’ Ian smiled, kissing Mickey’s cheek. ‘I’ll go down and get us something. Guard the stuff, alright? Debbie and Carl still try to figure out what they’re getting, and they’re starting Liam in on it, too.’

‘How do you know I won’t find what you got _me_?’

‘I got it wrapped at the store,’ Ian winked, leaving the room.

No sooner than he was gone, Debbie poked her head inside the bedroom. ‘I noticed my brother leaving.’

‘Yeah, he went for lunch,’ Mickey said, sitting down cross legged on the bed. ‘You need something?’

‘Mm... Nope,’ Debbie smiled innocently. ‘Whatcha got in there?’ she asked, nodding towards the bags.

‘Not telling,’ Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘Ian said you and your brothers were sneaky.’

‘Did he? Because I’m just asking out of academic interest.’

‘Your “academic interest” is gonna have to wait, it seems.’

‘Apparently,’ Debbie agreed.

Mickey made a few popping noises with his mouth as he waited for her to leave, before asking, ‘Are you waiting for something?’

‘Oh, no. Absolutely not. Just trying to figure you out.’

‘Trying to figure me out? What, you Sherlock Holmes or something?’

‘Nope, just curious,’ Debbie leaned forward, her hands on her hips and a smile plastered across her face. ‘Don’t hurt him, because I’ll come after you.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ Mickey asked in amusement.

‘I made my first shiv when I was thirteen. My techniques have improved in the past five years, believe me.’

Mickey bit back a laugh. ‘Cute. I should introduce you to my sister. You’d love her.’

‘I’m not cute, I’ll stab you in the eye.’

‘Then what? Cut out my liver and serve it with some fava beans and a nice chianti?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Calm down with the homicide, Doctor Lecter.’

‘Hey, guys!’ Ian greeted. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Your sister wants to go Hannibal on my liver, apparently.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind,’ Debbie said, smiling sweetly at her brother. ‘I’ll be off. Sheila wants help with stuff for dinner.’

‘Um, okay,’ Ian blinked and handed Mickey a plate of sandwiches. ‘Lunch?’

‘Right.’

‘Want coffee?’

‘Nah, I’ll be fine with water or something.’

‘Okay, be right back,’ Ian said, disappearing from the room again.

Mickey yawned and picked up a sandwich. He didn’t know what was on it, but it tasted good and he hummed in appreciation.

‘Good sandwich?’ Ian asked, coming back into the room and sitting opposite Mickey on the bed.

‘I don’t know what’s in this, but I like it,’ Mickey nodded.

‘Me either. Sheila insisted on making them.’

‘She’s the cardigan, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, she makes a good sandwich. Keep her.’

Ian laughed. ‘Noted.’

They demolished the plate of sandwiches – apparently once Ian discovered that Mickey wasn’t exaggerating about them being awesome, they had to eat as many as they could so the other wouldn’t get the chance – and then sat on the floor, door closed, and surrounded by tape, wrapping paper, and scissors.

Ian had, of course, enlisted the help of Mickey, and was beginning to regret it after Mickey spent several minutes complaining that he was shit at wrapping, and couldn’t even wrap a box. However, once Mickey got over himself, and actually bothered to test his skills, it turned out he was pretty good at it. Better than Ian, at least, but that wasn’t exactly saying much.

‘Gallagher, what the fuck,’ Mickey said, staring at the disaster Ian was holding. ‘Why is there so much tape?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ian whispered, sounding kind of horrified at himself.

‘Are you afraid it’s going to unravel or some shit?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Ian, a team of expert safe breakers couldn’t get into that,’ Mickey continued. ‘It’s like a fucking cryptex, only with less code and more tape.’

‘Cryptex?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘What, you haven’t read _The Da Vinci Code_ or something?’

‘Have you?’

‘Have you not?’

‘No?’

‘Fuck, man. Get with the program,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Who’s that for?’

Ian bit his lip and frowned at the parcel in front of him. ‘Liam.’

‘He’ll need fuckin’ bolt cutters to get into that.’

‘This is why you need to help me,’ Ian whined. ‘I wrap like a five year old.’

‘Did you ever think of _not_ doing that, then?’

Ian frowned and gave Mickey his puppy dog eyes. ‘Help me?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes at Ian. ‘I’m not wrapping everything. Just use less tape, dumbass.’

‘Worth a shot,’ Ian sighed. ‘Fine. You want to rewrap this one?’

‘Hell no. I want to see Liam try to fight his way into that.’

 

* * *

 

Ian began wondering halfway through the pile if he had gone a bit overboard with secondary presents, but maybe that was just because of how much time it was taking them to wrap everything.

By the time they were done, Ian had several paper cuts on his hands and had almost stabbed Mickey in the foot after his scissors started gliding through the paper and he shot through towards his boyfriend, as said boyfriend was stretching some cramp out of his leg.

Eventually, after carefully stashing away all the presents, Ian and Mickey trooped downstairs at Ian’s insistence. Apparently there was some sort of Gallagher Christmas tradition, where they would spend the afternoon of Christmas Eve watching movies. It seemed that by the time Ian and Mickey got to the living room, the rest of the Gallaghers – both actual and honourary – had conspired against them, and so, they ended up sitting squished together on an old armchair. After a while, they gave in, and Mickey ended up sprawled across Ian’s lap, much to the delight of the group’s women.

They started with watching _The Polar Express_ , because the adults – the adults in _charge_ , rather – decided to start with something kid friendly.

Mickey scowled as the opening credits rolled. ‘Hate this movie,’ he muttered.

‘Why?’ Ian asked, moving around on the chair to give Mickey more cushion space to sit on.

‘It’s so fucking _long_.’                                                          

‘It’s not that long. It’s only a hundred minutes.’

‘What fucking movie are you watching? It’s like four Goddamn hours of my life that I’ll never get back.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, Mick! Who doesn’t love a movie where almost every character is voiced by Tom Hanks?’

‘Uh, me.’

‘Then have a nap or something.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Mickey said, wiggling down into the chair and letting out a huff as the movie proper started.

Around the time there were waiters dancing through the carraige, Ian moved his eyes away from the screen to see that Mickey’s were shut, and his head had slumped into his chest. Ian bit back a grin and chanced pulling his arm out from under Mickey, in order to wrap it around his back. He carded his fingers gently through Mickey’s hair, and smiled as he made little snuffling noises.

‘Is he sleeping?’ Fiona asked, from her place in the middle of the couch, squished between Jimmy on the end and Vee on her other side.

‘Yeah,’ Ian replied. ‘Told him to take a nap because he hates this movie, apparently.’

‘Who hates a movie with _this_ much Tom Hanks?’

‘That’s exactly what I said.’

‘Seems like you really like him,’ Fiona noted, watching the way Ian was almost completely folded around the sleeping Milkovich in his lap.

Ian looked up at her. ‘I do.’

‘A Milkovich though?’

‘He’s more than his name, Fiona. A rose by any other name...’

‘Yeah, yeah, would smell as sweet,’ Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘Just make sure you know what you’re doing.’

‘I do,’ Ian said, dropping a kiss to Mickey’s forehead. ‘Absolutely.’

 ‘Okay then,’ Fiona smiled. ‘Just make sure he knows that he’s gonna get his ass whooped if he fucks up.’

‘Pretty sure he’s already had that speech from Mandy.’

‘Good. She’ll have that baton of hers, and I’ll have the baseball bat.’

Ian grinned. ‘Okay.’

‘Is that fuckin’ train movie still going?’ Mickey suddenly asked, his voice thick with sleep.

‘Yeah,’ Ian murmured. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’

‘Nah, it’s fine,’ Mickey yawned, twisting in Ian’s arms to shove his face into Ian’s chest. ‘Going back to sleep. Fuckin’ Christmas shopping.’

Ian laughed. ‘I know.’

Fiona was curious about the relationship her brother had with Mickey Milkovich. She wasn’t sure she would ever understand it, no matter how long it went. She wasn’t sure she would ever _need_ to understand it. As long as Ian was happy, she was happy. If Mickey ever fucked up, he would definitely know, because Fiona would be down on him like a ton of bricks, bringing the rest of the Gallaghers with her to open a can of whoopass. But Ian had always been a better judge of character than her, and right now, Ian was looking at Mickey like he had hung the moon and the stars in the sky. If he had chosen to love the ex-neighbourhood terror, then she would have to trust him that it was the right thing for him to do.

When Mickey next woke up, he was overjoyed to see that _The Polar Express_ had finished. He was less thrilled to see that the Gallaghers were now squabbling over which movie to watch next. It seemed that Debbie, Kev and Ian were all lobbying for _The Da Vinci Code_ while Fiona, Vee and Carl were arguing for _Forrest Gump_ , and because Sheila and Sammi were cooking in the kitchen, they “weren’t eligible” to vote on the matter.

Apparently no one noticed Mickey had woken up, until he shouted, ‘The fuck is going on!’

They froze, and Ian looked down to the koala-Mickey on his chest. ‘Oh. Hey.’

‘Hey?’ Mickey asked, moving into a more dignified sitting position and looking around the room. ‘Seriously. The fuck is going on?’

‘Next movie,’ Debbie explained. ‘We’re split, three, three.’

‘For the record, I’d go for _Da Vinci Code_ ,’ Mickey shrugged.

Ian grinned and gave Mickey a celebratory kiss. ‘You heard the man. Movie on!’

‘Ay, hold up,’ Mickey said, making Debbie pause halfway to the DVD player. ‘Isn’t that a bit graphic for little people?’

‘Liam loves it,’ Debbie said, slipping the disk into the tray. ‘Besides, a bit of gore never hurt anyone.’

‘Um,’ Mickey blinked and looked at Ian. ‘Seriously?’

Ian nodded. ‘Trust me. _The Da Vinci Code_ is not the worst thing to happen to Liam.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t go for _Forrest Gump_ , Mickey?’ Fiona interrupted. ‘Seeing as you’re the deciding vote, it seems.’

‘Wait,’ Mickey frowned, piecing a few things together in his mind. ‘Are you guys some sort of Tom Hanks fan club or something?’

‘Not exactly,’ Ian mused. ‘Welcome to the Gallagher Tom Hanks appreciation cult.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Sure, whatever. _Da Vinci Code, Forrest Gump_ , I don’t care.’

‘We’re going with _Da Vinci_ seeing as you chose that first,’ Debbie announced. ‘Now everybody shut up, it’s starting.’

As Mickey and Ian readjusted their positions on the chair, Mickey whispered, ‘We’re not going to spend the entire evening going through the film repertoire of Tom Hanks, are we?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian replied. ‘Every year, we first watch a Christmas movie, then go through one actress or actor’s work. Last year was Hugh Jackman.’ Ian sighed happily. ‘The abs on that man in _Wolverine_ , lemme tell you.’

Mickey nodded seriously. ‘We’ll have to write him a thank you letter.’

‘Already have.’

‘Okay, seriously, please shut up,’ Debbie said, glaring accusingly at her brother and his boyfriend. ‘I like this movie and you need to be quiet.’

‘Yeah, Ian,’ Mickey said, wiggling his eyebrows at the surprised redhead beside him. ‘This movie has an incredible soundtrack.’

‘Yes, _thank you_. Someone that understands,’ Debbie said, leaning over to high five Mickey. ‘Hans Zimmer is a genius.’

‘Absolutely,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Best song in the score for _Da Vinci Code_?’

‘Chevaliers de Sangreal, obviously,’ Debbie replied in a _“duh”_ tone.

Mickey grinned. ‘Obviously.’

‘Okay, now _you two_ need to shut up,’ Ian said, poking Mickey in the ribs. ‘We’re trying to watch a movie here.’

‘Shut up, Ian,’ Mickey and Debbie chimed together.

Ian just rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Mickey had never really been one to wake up and forget where he was. Growing up in a place like he did, it was a sort of a good idea to know exactly where you were at all times, whether that be during half consciousness or not, so when Mickey woke up in on a bed he didn’t instantly recognise, his first instinct was to panic.

He didn’t actually notice the arms around him until they tightened reflexively as he tried to move. Mickey turned his head so fast he almost got whiplash, and then he relaxed. He was with Ian, so he must be safe. Looking around the room, he remembered where he was. The Gallagher house, in “Lip’s old room”, surrounded by Ian’s family, and no bad intentions. He lay carefully back down on the mattress and pushed back into Ian, readjusting his position.

‘Morning,’ Ian mumbled, kissing Mickey’s hair lazily. ‘Merry Christmas.’

 _That’s right._ ‘Merry Christmas. Sorry if I woke you.’

‘I wake up at six every morning like clockwork. Don’t worry about it.’

‘What time is it now?’ Mickey asked, searching blindly for his phone.

‘Mm... ‘bout six thirty.’

‘Fuck,’ Mickey groaned. ‘I’m going back to sleep.’

‘Wait,’ Ian murmured. ‘Do you want your presents?’

‘Presents?’                           

‘Yeah, I mean, I got you a couple extra to make up for leaving the first ones at home.’

‘You didn’t have to get me anything,’ Mickey said, wiggling around to face Ian.

‘I knew you’d say that,’ Ian smiled. ‘But I did anyway.’

‘Aren’t they under the tree, then?’

‘Nope.’

‘Mm... Kay then. Lay ‘em on me, seeing as I’m already awake.’

Ian rolled back towards the edge of the bed (ignoring Mickey’s indignant whine) and picked a couple of boxes up off the floor. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said, giving the boxes to Mickey.

‘Making me sit up,’ Mickey grumbled, pushing himself into an upright position against the headboard.

‘Stop being a little bitch. It’s not that early.’

‘Maybe not for you, but you’re like a fucking nun, getting up at sparrow farts-o’clock to go climb fuckin’ Everest.’

Ian raised an eyebrow at him, but ignored his comments and nodded to the boxes. ‘Are you gonna open them, or what?’

‘Okay, okay. Which one first?’

‘That one.’

Mickey picked up the suggested package and blinked at it after ripping the paper off. ‘The fuck, Gallagher?’

Ian laughed. ‘I thought you would like it.’

‘When the fuck did I turn into a twelve year old girl?’ Mickey frowned. ‘So, what the fuck? Are we gonna raise a fuckin’ Tamagotchi together or something?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Dunno. We’ll find out. Okay. That little one now.’

‘This isn’t little.’

‘It’s smaller than the other one,’ Ian said simply.

‘Yeah, fair enough,’ Mickey acknowledged, tearing off the paper. ‘Ian, are you fucking joking.’

‘To add to your drawer.’

‘I have enough fucking candles.’

‘I know,’ Ian nodded. ‘But these ones aren’t scented.’

‘They aren’t?’ Mickey asked, scrutinising the packaging. ‘Thank God.’

‘Mm, figured you’d appreciate non-scented ones for the next time I decide to be romantic and rim you by candlelight.’

‘How thoughtful,’ Mickey grinned. ‘Alright. Third one?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian blushed. ‘I hope you like these ones.’

‘Can’t be worse than a Tamagotchi,’ Mickey said lightly. He tore the paper off the last present, and found it was actually two presents. First, a small sketchbook fell into his lap. ‘Holy shit,’ Mickey said, looking between Ian and the box left in his hands. ‘Seriously?’

Ian nodded. ‘I asked the woman at the store what the best ones were, and she said these.’

‘Ian, these are fucking expensive.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Ian said. ‘I know you like painting, but I know that you like sketching as well, so I thought you might like something to sketch with.’

‘A pencil is perfectly fine. You didn’t need to buy me a set of Copic markers.’

‘Saying you don’t want them?’

Mickey held the box up to his chest. ‘Definitely not saying that.’

‘Sure?’

‘Pretty sure.’

‘Okay then.’

Mickey bit his lip and looked back down at his box of markers. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s okay. You deserve them,’ Ian said.

‘Not really,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘But I’ll pretend I do.’

Ian smiled. ‘You do.’

Mickey looked up and kissed Ian lightly. ‘Okay.’

 

* * *

 

‘Mick, can you pass me that present for Debs?’ Ian asked. It was just after ten, and the littler Gallaghers had decided they were overdue for their presents, so the clan had gathered in the living room around the sad looking and over decorated pine tree. ‘Mickey.’

‘What?’ Mickey said, looking up from his new sketchbook. ‘What was the question?’

‘Pass me that present for Debs.’

‘Yeah, pass that present for Debs,’ Debbie agreed.

Mickey frowned and put the cap back on, then tucked the pen behind his ear as he leaned over to pluck the box out of the array of items under the tree. ‘There.’

‘Thanks,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes as Mickey went straight back to drawing. ‘Merry Christmas, Debs.’

‘Thank you, Ian,’ Debbie chimed, before adding as an afterthought, ‘And Mickey.’

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement and left Ian to deal with his family as he continued playing the role of Santa and handing everything out. They, in turn, were gifted a box by Fiona and the other adults and told to go open it upstairs.

Ian took the box with a hesitant smile and thanked everyone. He waited until the present swapping was over before he interrupted Mickey’s drawing and pulled him up to their room.

Mickey stood beside him and tilted his head at the box. ‘It’s gonna be full of sex stuff, isn’t it.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Dunno. But if Sheila had a hand in it, then possibly.’

‘Sheila? The cardigan one?’

Ian nodded. ‘You’d be surprised. And please don’t ask.’

‘Not asking, got it. You can open the box.’

‘Okay...’ Ian said, approaching the box slowly. He pulled one end of the ribbon, and removed the lid. ‘Well...’

‘Well?’

Ian grinned and tossed something pink at him. ‘There’s at least one dildo.’

‘Fuck, man,’ Mickey grimaced, dodging the flying dick. ‘Anything else?’

‘Uh... Flavoured lube,’ Ian said loudly, as he continued rifling through the box. ‘Matching mugs? A fondue set, and I think these are fluffy socks.’

‘That’s a random bunch of stuff,’ Mickey commented.

‘Oh, and there’s a new toy for Radar,’ Ian said, holding up a plush toy duck. ‘Jesus, there’s a whole other bunch of stuff here.’

‘Really?’

‘Uh...’ Ian snickered and threw something else at Mickey. ‘We’re using those when we get home, I think.’

‘Handcuffs?’ Mickey asked, throwing them back. ‘Fuck knows how many times I’ve been on the receiving end of those for _non-sexy_ purposes.’

‘So is that a no to the cuffs?’ Ian asked, sounding a bit put out.

‘It’s a maybe.’

‘Great! There’s also a blindfold and... I’m not entirely sure what this is.’

Mickey came over to inspect the suspicious object and bit his lip as he tried not to laugh. ‘I think it’s a butt plug.’

‘What? No. No way.’

‘No, it is,’ Mickey insisted. ‘It’s like a rabbit tail thing. Are they all fucking with us?’

‘Ah, no,’ Ian shook his head. ‘They probably just want to get a reaction out of us.’

‘We’ll have to thank them, then.’

‘You’re not weirded out that my family gave us a bunch of sex toys?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘It’s not that many.’

Ian shook his head in disbelief at Mickey’s diplomacy. ‘Yeah, alright. Ready to begin the eating?’

‘Lunch?’

‘Yeah, we pretty much just eat until none of us can move now.’

‘Sounds fun.’

Ian shut the lid on the box and grabbed Mickey’s hand to pull him from their room. ‘Just make sure that you’re not _stuffed_. I fully intend to have festive Christmas sex later.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

 

* * *

 

Turned out that despite Mickey and Ian saying they wouldn’t overeat, they did, so the festive sex was left for their return to New York. They left early evening on Boxing Day, with an unnecessarily tearful goodbye from the Gallagher family, seeing as they would be in New York in two days, and arrived back home in New York as darkness had settled over the city.

Ian decided to crash at Mickey’s for the night, and they were both too tired (again) to do anything, so they just showered quickly, put on fresh clothes, and went straight to bed. Ian was gone when Mickey woke up at eleven the next morning – not that he had expected Ian to still be there – and found a note on his kitchen bench:

                                                   

_Morning babe!_

_Went home to wash my clothes and pick up Radar from Mandy’s._  
I’ll be at home from after about 10, so come by whenever _J_  
P.S: bring my presents!  
P.P.S: I’m making Russian salad for you

_-I xx_

Mickey yawned as he put the note back down, and started up the coffee machine to brew while he went to the bathroom and got dressed. He ate a cold Poptart and gathered Ian’s presents from their various hiding places in his apartment, poured his coffee into a thermos, and headed out the door to Ian’s apartment.

He had only been there a couple of times, which was actually pretty ridiculous, given how long they had been dating, so it didn’t really feel like a second home to him yet. That honour was still awarded to Mandy’s place. As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for Ian’s floor, he felt like he was being judged, almost. Something else that was completely ridiculous, seeing as he was alone in the elevator, and he was sure there were no cameras. Maybe it was just the walls judging him.

Nevertheless, he shook it off, and went off down the hall to Ian’s. He rapped on the door, and heard Radar’s answering bark. Mickey smiled. He had missed the dog.

‘Hey,’ Ian smiled, as he opened the door and stepped back to allow Mickey in.

‘Hey,’ Mickey greeted, going over the threshold and immediately sinking to his knees to get on Radar’s level. ‘Hello, you fluffy idiot.’

‘My dog is not an idiot, thank you,’ Ian said, tapping Mickey with his foot as he walked past him down the short hall and into the door of the kitchen. ‘You can go dump your stuff in the living room if you want.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Mickey replied, standing up and toeing his boots off, before going straight ahead to the living room. He pulled his coat off and swung it over the back of the arm chair, then deposited his bag of gifts for Ian on the glass topped coffee table and flopped backwards onto Ian’s black leather couch.

‘Food?’ Ian asked, popping his head through from the kitchen.

‘Only reason I’m here.’

Ian laughed and brought him over a bowl of Russian salad, then sat with his own on the beanbag by the window. ‘I like how you’ve just dumped your stuff on my table.’

‘Where else was I supposed to put it?’

‘Under the tree,’ Ian said, nodding towards the large tree in the corner beside the TV.

‘Too bad. Not Christmas anymore,’ Mickey shrugged.

‘I know, but it would be nice to pretend it is still. That way, _one_ of my gifts might have a little more meaning.’

‘You got me a festive present?’

‘Not necessarily, but yes.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘I hope it’s not a reindeer sweater or something.’

‘Damn, I wish I’d thought of that,’ Ian sighed. ‘Next year.’

‘Ha-fucking-ha.’

‘Don’t be _rude_ , Mickey,’ Ian said lightly. ‘Eat your damn food, or you’re never getting your mysteriously festive gift.’

‘Don’t needa tell me twice,’ Mickey grinned, digging into his bowl of salad.

They ate in silence, until Ian finished and got up to turn on some music. He tried to act as casual as he could while he took Mickey’s, now empty, bowl to the kitchen along with his own, but quickly felt his facade cracking as Mickey’s face screwed up at the music coming through Ian’s computer.

‘What the fuck is this?’ Mickey asked.

_Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well._

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

_My chain hits my chest when I’m bangin’ on the dashboard, my chain hits my chest when I’m bangin’ on the radio._

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

_Get back, get down, pull me closer if you think you can hang._

Ian smiled sheepishly. ‘It has a good beat, okay?’

_Hands up, hands tied, don’t go screamin’ if I blow you with a bang._

‘Can you change it?’ Mickey pleaded. The music was making his ears feel weirdly assaulted.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘I hate you.’

‘I know. Now, come over here and shower me with tokens of your affections.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and picked up his bag of stuff. He walked over to where Ian was sitting cross legged on the floor and sat down opposite him, dumping the bag on Ian’s lap in the process. ‘Merry Christmas, asshole.’

Ian grinned and leaned over to kiss Mickey’s forehead. ‘Same to you.’

‘You know, you didn’t have to get me extra stuff in Chicago.’

‘I wanted to, so I did,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Now open these,’ he added, pushing a small pile of presents towards Mickey. ‘Start from the bottom with the larger ones.’

‘Yeah, alright. You can dive into yours, too, I suppose,’ Mickey said, starting to rip his way into his pile of presents. ‘Oh, hey, I like this song.’

‘Same. That’s why it’s in this playlist,’ Ian smiled, before singing to Mickey, _‘Now it’s three in the morning, and I’m tryna change your mind. Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply: “Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”’_

Mickey grinned and nudged him with his foot. ‘Open your presents, gingerass.’

‘If you insist.’

Mickey nodded and left Ian to open his presents, while he did the same. He ended up with four items on the floor in front of him: a thick book on world mythologies, a large wooden box, and two small, black, and inconspicuous boxes. Mickey raised an eyebrow at Ian as he opened the wooden box. Row of paints and brushes were meticulously stored on shelves that folded out to reveal more tubes and brushes. ‘Christ, Ian.’

‘Is it okay?’ Ian asked anxiously, as he popped his head through the neck of the Captain America shirt Mickey had bought him.

‘Yeah, it’s just... a lot. This is probably worth more than everything I got you combined.’

‘It’s okay,’ Ian said. ‘Really. Don’t worry about it.’

Mickey frowned. ‘And what about these two? Any preference which I open first?’

‘Ah...’ Ian bit his lip. ‘Nope. Go for either.’

Mickey picked up the slightly larger box and popped open the top. He blinked, then looked accusingly up at Ian, who was grinning madly. ‘Seriously?’

‘Festive, right? Because it’s green? And shaped kind of like a Christmas tree?’ Ian laughed at Mickey’s unconvinced expression.

‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I just see a green butt plug,’ Mickey said, shutting the box and putting it on top of the paints. ‘Thanks, I guess?’

‘You’ll thank me later,’ Ian winked. ‘It has a whole bunch of different vibration settings.’

‘Oh really? Test it yourself, huh?’

‘Nope, the person I spoke to at the shop told me and said from personal experience that it’s pretty awesome to use.’

‘Super,’ Mickey said, looking oddly conflicted.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine, just feeling like I know too much about that person’s sex life, you know?’

‘Yeah, I get you,’ Ian nodded. He started laughing as he unwrapped another of Mickey’s presents. ‘Gingerbread scented candles?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘You said you liked scented candles.’

‘You call me gingerbread all the time. Is this you being cute, Mick?’

‘Dunno. Does it seem cute?’

‘Fucking adorable.’

‘Good,’ Mickey said, watching Ian unwrap a large bag of dog treats. ‘Those aren’t for you, by the way.’

‘No, I figured. Wait...’ Ian said, turning the pack over in his hands. ‘Brass knuckles?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey coughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. ‘I figured you might need some in case of emergency. I don’t like to go out without a pair, and you’re important to me, so I don’t want you to get hurt,’ he finished quickly.

‘Oh,’ Ian said quietly. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s okay,’ Mickey said, his mouth twitching into a small smile. ‘Last ones?’

‘Yup. You first.’

Mickey nodded, and opened the box to reveal another, smaller box. He shook it out into his palm to find it was a velvet covered jewellery box. ‘I swear to God, Gallagher. This better not be a ring.’

‘It’s not, I promise.’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey said suspiciously, cracking open the box to reveal a silver dog tag on a thin chain. Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked to Ian for explanation.

Ian just shrugged. ‘Turn it over.’

Mickey did as he was told, and read a small inscription on the back. ‘“Like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume.” You reading Shakespeare now, gingerbread?’ Mickey asked with a smile, slipping the chain over his neck.

‘Only the good bits,’ Ian laughed.

‘Well, seems like we had kind of the same idea,’ Mickey said, nodding to the last present in front of Ian.

‘Really?’ Ian said, ripping through the paper to end up with a box about the size of his palm. He opened it to find a thin, silver cuff, about half an inch wide. ‘Well, it is silver, I suppose.’

‘Look inside,’ Mickey mumbled.

Ian cocked an eyebrow and took the cuff out, turning it over in his hands to find an inscription inside. ‘You got it engraved?’

‘Yeah.’

Ian squinted to read the tiny text, but eventually figured out what it said. ‘“And so all yours.”’ Ian murmured.

‘It’s Shakespeare. From _The Merchant of Venice_.’

Ian smiled as he slipped it onto his wrist. ‘Mickey Milkovich, a romantic. Who would’ve thought?’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey said lightly. ‘So...’

‘So..?’ Ian prodded.

‘You wanna digest a bit more, or you wanna get on me?’

Ian grinned. ‘Come here, you asshole. You’re ruining the moment.’

‘Fuck off, am not.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian stood and pulled Mickey up to stand beside him. ‘You are. But it’s okay,’ he wrapped his arms around Mickey and kissed his hair. ‘Because I like it when you do that.’

‘My ass, you do,’ Mickey scoffed, burying his face in Ian’s shoulder.

‘Your ass, I _will_ do,’ Ian corrected. ‘Bedroom?’

‘Absolutely.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, chevaliers de sangreal is definitely a song you should add to your study playlists. it's instrumental and makes you feel mildly invincible. also, the two songs i mentioned as playing on ian's laptop are in my writing playlist, and popped up as i was doing those bits, so they made a guest appearance. (aggressively headcanoning that 'bad girls' by m.i.a is one of ian's favourite songs.)
> 
>  
> 
> [you know where to find me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	11. Lust and Thrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a while since i last updated. so sorry. anyway, i came across a bunch of horrible euphemisms for sex earlier??? and i thought i would use a few. so that's something to look forward to.

Mickey knew Ian had been looking forward to having his family come to New York for New Year’s, and Mickey might’ve been a little bit happy to see them again, too, but he was definitely not happy about being roped into helping Ian clean his entire apartment.

If it had been Mickey’s family coming to stay for a week, he wouldn’t have bothered, but Ian was one of those people who liked to have everything spick and span for when anyone came over. When Mandy had come to _live_ with Mickey, he only bothered to clean the bathroom and spare room. Though that was more to do with the fact that Mandy would’ve stabbed a paintbrush into one of Mickey’s eyes if he hadn’t.

What annoyed Mickey about having to clean Ian’s apartment with him was mainly that Ian’s apartment was always gleaming, yet he insisted the entire place be cleaned from top to bottom. The rugs were shampooed, the wooden floors were polished, countertops were scrubbed, and every single surface was aggressively dusted. There was a brief moment of fear when Ian brought up the possibility of repainting, just to keep the colours fresh and bright. (After seeing the look of panic on Mickey’s face, Ian almost pissed himself laughing, which scared Mickey more than the repainting suggestion, because Mickey had _just_ finished cleaning the floors.) Ian also got Mickey to help him move the furniture in his office, because a bed for Carl was going to be put in there, seeing as Debbie had already claimed Ian’s spare room.

All of Ian’s festive decorations were put back, of course, so it wasn’t so much _cleaning_ things and dusting as it was moving items a few inches away from their original position because there were fucking nativity sets and porcelain elves and fucking reindeers hauling a hugeass Santa in his little sleigh, as well as fairy lights hanging from every surface where there wasn’t tinsel. The only room that _didn’t_ stick with the festive theme was the kitchen, and that’s because Ian claimed it was a hazard. Yeah, like having a creepy snowman sitting in the corner of the bathroom watching Mickey take a dump _wasn’t_ a hazard. Every time he saw it, he almost launched himself off the toilet and into the wall with fright.

After having finished cleaning the apartment, Ian and Mickey sunk happily into the couch and looked around at their mammoth effort.

Ian sighed and nudged Mickey’s knee with his own. ‘Thanks for helping me.’

‘What sort of person doesn’t help their boyfriend clean their apartment like the Queen of England is coming the next day?’ Mickey yawned, shutting his eyes and leaning his head on the back of the couch.

‘Some people, I suppose,’ Ian said.

‘ _Smart_ people. Your apartment is always clean, and you had me scrubbing your fucking shower,’ Mickey grumbled.

‘I like you best on your hands and knees, Mick. You should know that by now,’ Ian grinned.

‘Mhmm. Know where I like _you_ best?’

‘Behind you while you’re on your hands and knees?’

‘Nope, on the phone ordering me a fucking pizza.’

‘Is that a hint?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘It’s open to interpretation, but I’m going to say a strong “yes” to that.’

Ian laughed. ‘Any particular toppings?’

‘Edible, would be great.’

‘So that’s a no.’

‘You know what I like.’

‘I do, yeah,’ Ian said, going off to the kitchen to find the number for the pizza place.

While he was gone, Mickey flopped his head to the side, to see Radar sitting on his bed in the corner, surrounded by the new toys he had gotten for Christmas. ‘Hey, buddy,’ Mickey called. He smiled as Radar’s ears perked up. ‘C’mere, Radar.’

Despite Mickey’s best efforts, the dog stayed put on his bed, but craving the dog’s attention, Mickey slid off the couch and belly crawled across the room to the dog’s bed. ‘Hellooo,’ Mickey cooed, scratching the dog’s ears, and lying mere inches away from Radar’s face. ‘You’re cute,’ he whispered. ‘Cuter than Ian. Well, maybe. Not quite. Don’t tell him I said that.’

The dog just stared back at Mickey, tilting his head slightly towards the fingers scratching lazily at his fur. Mickey smiled and wiggled a bit closer to Radar. He pushed the dog over on his bed, and spread-eagled himself over the pillow. ‘Mm, this is comfy,’ Mickey mumbled, watching the dog from the corner of his eye.

Radar watched Mickey slowly move his face closer, until their noses were touching, and took the opportunity to strike.

In the kitchen, Ian had just finished ordering pizza, and having hung up his phone mere moments earlier, heard a bloodcurdling scream from the living room. He ran into the room, to see Mickey lying on the floor next to Radar. ‘Babe? You okay?’

Mickey grimaced up at Ian and said, ‘Your dog just licked my face.’

Ian blinked. ‘So?’

‘His tongue almost went up my nose, Ian,’ Mickey said, glaring accusingly at Radar. ‘You’re gross.’

Ian laughed as Radar licked Mickey again, eliciting a noise of disgust form his boyfriend. ‘Don’t put your face so close, then.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Then don’t be such a baby. Bit of dog saliva never killed anyone.’

‘My foot up someone’s ass never killed anyone, either, but there’s always a first time, isn’t there?’ Mickey reasoned.

‘Yeah, alright. But he didn’t bite you, so you’re fine.’

‘He would _never._ He likes me.’

‘I do too, and _I_ bite you.’

‘That’s completely different and you know it,’ Mickey replied, lobbing a tennis ball at Ian’s head, and failing miserably, due to him being upside down.

Ian watched the ball roll away from him. ‘Nice shot,’ he deadpanned.

‘I thought so.’

‘You know, if you’re tired enough to be sleeping on my dog’s bed, I can always save you some pizza and you can go nap in _my_ bed.’

Mickey shrugged as best he could. ‘Nah, I’ll be good.’

‘Sure?’ Ian asked, cocking an eyebrow at the way Mickey was stretched out over the dog bed.

‘Mhmm. Just wake me up when the pizza’s here.’

‘Yeah, alright. You want a blanket?’

‘Nope,’ Mickey yawned, shutting his eyes.

‘Okay. Night, Mick.’

‘Night, gingerass.’

 

* * *

 

It had been approximately fifty-one hours since Ian and the Gallaghers had all seen each other, but from the way they were acting, you would think it had been more like fifty-one years. Mickey supposed that was probably due to how close they all were, because he knew for sure that he wasn’t like that with any of _his_ siblings. Well, maybe Mandy, but she lived in New York now, so it was kind of a moot point.

There was hugging, there was sobbing, and there were cries of _“I missed you guys so much!”_ followed by ugly grin-and-bear-it weeping. Given the time they’d been apart, it was verging on pathetic, and it took all of Mickey’s willpower not to mention as such.

Once the Gallaghers had calmed down, Mickey and Ian drove back to Ian’s apartment (apparently he had been hiding a car in the underground parking, which Mickey was pleasantly surprised to discover) with Debbie and Carl in the backseat, while Fiona, JimmySteve and Liam took a cab to the hotel they were staying at near Ian’s apartment block.

As they walked in through the door, the first thing Carl said was, ‘What the fuck happened in here?’

Ian looked around to see what Carl was talking about and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did the North Pole relocate to your apartment?’

Mickey snickered. ‘Santa’s asshole, what did I tell you?’

‘Shut up,’ Ian said defensively, elbowing Mickey and shutting the door behind the four of them. ‘Go find Radar while I show these two to their rooms, okay?’

Mickey rolled his eyes and toed off his boots beside the door, before he wandered off down the main hall. ‘Radar,’ he called. ‘Where are you?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ian called, as he walked towards Mickey in the living area. ‘Found him in the spare room.’

‘Oh,’ Mickey said, sitting on the beanbag and pulling out his phone. ‘I might have to go in to work later.’

‘But we’re having dinner with my family tonight?’

‘Yeah, well. I gotta make money, Gallagher,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Besides, they’ll be here for a week. I can have dinner with you some other night.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Ian said, sitting on the table in front of Mickey and kicking his knee lightly. ‘Besides, it’s just a _maybe_ , right?’

‘Right,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Save me some leftovers if it becomes a definite thing.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Carl might eat everything before you get the chance to.’

‘If it’s green, he can have it,’ Carl said, entering the living room and diving onto the couch.

Debbie frowned disapprovingly at him as she sat in the armchair, Radar at her side. ‘Green is good for you.’

‘At least I’m not making you drink it as a smoothie,’ Ian said, grinning mischievously at his younger brother.

‘Yeah, be glad you’re avoiding _that_.’ Mickey grimaced at the memory of a kale and something – ginger and cucumber? – thing that Ian had made for him one morning. He had never tasted anything more disgusting and that was saying something, considering the food of his childhood.

‘Hey, my smoothies aren’t _that_ bad.’

‘Maybe not for you.’

‘They’re healthy and nutritional, and you can’t live off bacon and pancakes forever,’ Ian said, raising an eyebrow at Mickey.

‘Fucking watch me,’ Mickey replied, throwing a tiny plush snowman at Ian.

‘You still have that damn snowman?’ Debbie interrupted, watching the pair of them throw it back and forth at each other. ‘I thought you would’ve gotten rid of it after you and Tom –’

‘Ah, no, stop right there,’ Ian said quickly, throwing the snowman at Debbie and catching her off guard. ‘Irrelevant topic.’

‘Who’s Tom?’ Mickey asked, frowning at them.

Debbie bit her lip and tossed the snowman back to Ian. ‘Ian’s ex. Thought he would’ve told you.’

‘Nope,’ Ian muttered, and put the plush on the table in front of him. ‘Don’t worry, Mick.’

‘Not worried,’ Mickey shrugged as he stood from his beanbag and walked towards the kitchen. ‘Anyone for coffee?’

‘Mickey,’ Ian said softly, following his boyfriend into the kitchen, where he found him fiddling with the coffee maker. ‘I hope Debbie didn’t upset you.’

‘What, because she spilled the beans on your ex?’ Mickey asked, looking up to Ian and rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. ‘I don’t give a shit about your exes. I don’t tell you about mine and I don’t expect you to, either.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘Why? You want to talk about it _now_?’

‘Not really.’

‘Then there’s no point in continuing this conversation. How the fuck do I work this fucking thing?’

Ian sighed and came over to push a couple of buttons on the coffee maker. ‘There. Look, if it’s bothering you that much –’

‘It’s not! Jesus fucking Christ, Ian.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ian pressed, putting a hand on Mickey’s shoulder and turning the other man gently towards him. ‘I can read you like a book, Mick.’

‘Well, you misread, gingerbread. If you wanna spread the word of your ex to make yourself feel better, then go ahead. But, like I said, I don’t _care_ if you had an ex that meant something to you. Most fucking people have, okay?’ Mickey hissed, getting a mug and somehow managing to aggressively pour his coffee. ‘Are we done? You gonna drop it?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian sighed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘I suppose.’

‘Good. Let’s go back to your family and see if they’ve noticed how clean everything is.’

Ian laughed lightly. ‘Still pissed that I made you clean everything?’

‘They’re not the Queen of England. We didn’t _need_ to clean your fucking ceilings. The only person who spends a large time on their back looking at the ceiling is me, and we’ve already established how little _I_ care about general cleanliness.’

‘Except when it comes to your studio,’ Ian pointed out. ‘It’s more organised than I am.’

‘Hardly,’ Mickey scoffed, as they went back to the living room. ‘I just like everything to have its place, thank you _very_ much.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, alright.’

‘Fiona just called,’ Debbie announced, as Ian and Mickey sat down in the beanbag together. ‘They’re coming here now.’

‘Any word on Lip?’

‘I think he said he was coming in tomorrow.’

‘When you find out, let me know so I can avoid him,’ Mickey muttered.

Ian raised his eyebrows and turned slowly to face Mickey. ‘Why? It’s just Lip.’

‘Exactly why I want to avoid him.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

‘Your brother’s an asshole.’

‘I know. I’m related to him.’

‘Whoopdee-fucking-do.’

 

* * *

 

_btw are u working tomorrow night? :) xx_

_yeah why_

_i made a booking!_

_why the fuck did u do that_

_bc if u can’t be there then u can be there u know??_

_oh yippee_

_what? u don’t want me to be there?_

_don't mix business w pleasure etc_

_pleasure huh? ;)_

_fuck off u know what i mean_

_yeah that i ~pleasure~ u ;) ;) ;)_

_gallagher can we not go there rn_

_but i ~PLEASURE~ you_

_yes i am aware_

_u want me to pleasure u now_

_it’s like 2am u don’t need to come over_

_who said anything about coming over? ;)_

_stop with the winky faces asshole_

_who’s asshole? yours or mine?_

_...what????_

_bad line. ur right. ummmmm... what are u wearing_

_that tshirt  u left here a few weeks ago and sweatpants_

_ooh sexy ;) take it off_

_are u serious? it's fuckin freezing_

**_[picture received]_ ** _u wanna take it off now??_

_what is that? can’t make it out_

_what are u saying???_

_i'm saying ur lighting is shit and i can’t see anything dumbass_

**_[picture received]_ ** _that better?_

_...yes. much. thank u._

_;) don’t save it to ur phone_

_scout's honor_

_send me one_

_no_

_please_

_nope_

_~now it’s 3 in the mornin and im tryna change ur mind~_

_it’s only 2_

_fine. ~now it’s 2 in the morning and im tryna change ur mind~_

**_[picture received]_ ** _u fuckin happy now_

_;) yes. glad to see my singing helped_

_fuck off_

_GET off u mean???_

_get urself off_

_oh i am ;)_

_yippee_

_im reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally hard mick omg_

_omg?_

_OMg_

_what_

**_[picture received]_ ** _omg_

_are u seriously whacking one out right now??_

_when the mood strikes..._

_jfc ian_

**_[picture received]_ ** _say something hot mickey_

_what?_

_THIS ISNT WORKING IM GONNA CALL U_

 

‘The fuck is going on, Gallagher?’ Mickey hissed into his phone as he answered Ian’s call.

Ian was breathing heavily on the other end of the line. ‘Talk dirty to me.’

‘Do do do do, do do do do dooo, do do do do do do do do do.’

Ian groaned. ‘Don’t be an asshole.’

‘I thought you liked me being an asshole?’ Mickey asked. ‘Or do you only like being _in_ my asshole?’

Ian’s muffled laughter came through the line. ‘You’re trying to get me off, not make me wake up my entire apartment.’

‘Your fault for wanting to have phone sex.’

‘You can’t not be getting anything from this,’ Ian said incredulously.

‘Never said that, did I?’

‘I suppose not,’ Ian agreed. ‘Just help me out here.’

‘Fine,’ Mickey huffed. ‘Um. How’s the weather?’

‘Mickey, this is phone sex, not a meteorological convention,’ Ian muttered.

‘Your point?’

‘Put a finger up your ass.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard. Do it.’

‘Ooh, I love when you take control,’ Mickey said, wiggling his sweatpants further down and pressing his phone against his ear with his shoulder. ‘Makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.’

‘I hope it’s your finger making you feel all tingly inside,’ Ian paused. ‘Actually.’

‘Oh God,’ Mickey groaned. ‘I know that tone. What is it?’

‘Get that plug I got you for Christmas. Open yourself and put it in.’

‘It’s two in the morning. I don’t have the willpower to get up and put a plug in just for your amusement.’

‘Mickey.’

‘No.’

‘Please?’

‘Do you hate me or something,’ Mickey groaned, giving up and getting out of bed to retrieve the toy from where it was sitting in its box in one of Mickey’s drawers.

‘Did you get it?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Aww, thank you.’

‘I’m too tired to fight with you about a fucking buttplug, Gallagher,’ Mickey replied, putting his phone on speaker and setting it down on his nightstand, as he turned on the lamp beside his bed.

‘Did you just put me on speaker?’

‘I need both hands for this.’

Mickey could practically hear Ian grinning. ‘You’re so good to me.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey muttered, kicking his pants off and uncapping the bottle of lube. ‘Wake me up at two in the morning _ever_ again just to get you off, and I’ll come round to your house and punch you in the dick. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ Ian chirped.

Mickey nodded, despite Ian not being able to see him, and got comfy before squirting some lube on a couple of fingers and sliding one into himself. ‘You better.’

‘So, what’re you doing?’

‘Sliding a finger in and out of my ass, currently.’

‘Uh huh. Good?’

‘I’d prefer a dick, but I take what I can get.’

Ian chuckled. ‘Add another one.’

‘Way ahead of you,’ Mickey replied. ‘Why are we even doing this? We were having sex like five hours ago.’

‘So?’

‘Good point,’ Mickey sighed. ‘Jesus, I’m still loose from earlier.’

Ian bit his lip to keep himself from moaning too loud. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Still feel me inside you?’ Ian breathed. ‘My dick fits perfectly in your ass, Mick.’

‘I know. Feels so good.’

‘Mhmm, you think you can fit the plug in?’

‘Let’s find out,’ Mickey said, spreading some lube over the plug and taking a deep breath as he held it at his entrance.

‘Are you doing it now?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey groaned, pushing the toy slowly in and past his rim. ‘Fuck.’

‘It in?’

‘Mm.’

‘Jesus, Mickey,’ Ian breathed. ‘It fill you up?’

‘Not as well as you do.’

‘How romantic,’ Ian murmured. ‘Send me a picture.’

‘Fine. Hanging up. Back to text.’

‘Kay.’

 

**_[picture sent]_ ** _there_

_hoooooooly shit. hot. so hot._

_mhmm_

**_[picture received]_ ** _im closeeeeeeee_

_guess what_

_what_

_vibration settings are pretty fucking awesome_

_fucK_

_mhmm_

**_[picture received]_ ** _look at that_

_oh sh_

_u come?????_

**_[picture sent]_ ** _uh huh. u try having this thing up u. see how long u last._

_looks better on u xx_

_not an ‘xx’ situation_

_well i really appreciate u doin this for me_

_u fuckin better_

‘What is it now?’ Mickey sighed, answering the phone as Ian called again.

‘Just wanted to thank you,’ Ian said softly. ‘I don’t think I woke up Debs or Carl.’

_‘Wrong!’_ someone in the background called.

‘Fuck,’ Ian muttered.

Mickey laughed. ‘That’s what you get for two a.m. phone sex.’

‘What, a fucking awesome orgasm? Sign me up for round two!’

‘Ah, no.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. I’m gonna take this thing out then go back to sleep, okay?’

‘Okay. Night, babe. Thank you.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey yawned. ‘Night.’

‘Love you.’

‘Yeah, you too.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey woke up to a text on his phone, because apparently having people staying in his apartment didn’t stop Ian from getting up at the asscrack of dawn to go for a run with Radar.

 

_morning babe! hope u got enough sleep after last night ;) only one day of work before ur on break again so i hope we’ll have a repeat performance? don’t forget i'm at ur work tonight for dinner so i'll see u later xx_

Mickey rolled his eyes and sent a quick text back, despite that he had received the one from Ian almost an hour ago.

 

_technically im still on break. they just needed someone for tonight. im going back to sleep. don't wake me unless u have russian salad._

_who said i don’t?_

_do u?_

_i made some last night actually._

_bring it to me for lunch_

_come get it urself u lazy ass_

_fuck off. after ur need for 2am phone sex i think it’s fair u bring it to me. asshole._

_...yeah okay. i'll be round in an hour. going to pick up lip around lunch time._

_mmkay. i'll be sleeping. let urself in._

_i do have a key... ;)_

_i know. now fuck off im sleeping_

_okay. night night cinderella xx_

Mickey grunted at his phone, somehow in his half-conscious state thinking that Ian would get that as a message, and turned it onto silent, then slid the phone back onto his bedside table and fell back asleep. With any luck, Ian wouldn’t wake him up when he dropped off the food, but knowing him, he would, so Mickey resolved to sleep as much as he could before Ian would inevitably interrupt him again.

‘Morning, babe,’ the broccoli in Mickey’s dream said.

‘Broccoli can’t talk,’ Mickey mumbled, swatting at the greenery in front of him.

‘Mick, don’t hit me,’ the broccoli replied. ‘And I’m not broccoli.’

Mickey frowned as he slowly spiralled up from his dream. He cracked open an eye to see Ian smirking at him. ‘Oh fuck, I was right.’

‘What?’

‘You did wake me up.’

‘Yeah, and I’m not a vegetable,’ Ian added, quirking his eyebrow. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Tired. You and your fucking dick,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Keeping me up all hours of the night.’

‘Could’ve told me to fuck off,’ Ian said, crouching beside the bed and stroking Mickey’s hair lightly.

‘When have I ever told you to fuck off?’

‘Always time for a first.’

‘Hah,’ Mickey snorted. ‘Couldn’t leave you hanging.’

‘And believe me, I appreciate it. Debs and Carl... not so much.’

‘Mm. Speaking of your siblings, should you be going to get the asshole from the airport?’ Mickey asked.

‘Yeah, I should,’ Ian agreed, leaning forwards to kiss Mickey’s cheek. ‘I put the salad in your fridge on the top shelf. I’ll see you later.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey yawned, waving his hand half heartedly at Ian’s retreating figure.

‘Love you!’ Ian called.

‘Love me too.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey had his day free up until he was due to go into work – someone had called in sick, and he was being bribed with an extra day off to come in and deal with the post-Christmas, pre-New Years’ crowd. Aka, the people without souls or cooking skills who wanted to come and make the staff work when they would rather have been at home doing fuck all.

Mickey decided that he would take it upon himself to get cracking on a new piece of art, so he pulled out the massive encyclopaedia of mythologies Ian had got him, and flipped it open to a random page. Mickey grinned as he looked over the illustration on the page – valkyries had always been one of his favourite things – so he was content to start sketching out a few ideas. Maybe with the pens Ian had bought him for Christmas.

He eventually set about making plans for a depiction of a valkyrie taking the soul of a fallen warrior into Valhalla, and had to remind himself not to end up drawing Ian again, seeing as it appeared that was becoming a regular thing. Mickey might’ve borrowed Ian’s cheekbones... Maybe the shape of his eyes, and _perhaps_ he used Ian’s exact hair colour, but that was no one’s business but his own.

While he doodled the chest piece of his badass valkyrie’s armour, he pulled the Russian salad from his fridge and started making his way through the container.

It must’ve been some weird psychic link thing that he and Ian had going, because he was roughly halfway through demolishing the salad when he got a text from him.

 

_how's the food? :)_

Mickey balanced the fork awkwardly in his mouth while he searched through his emojis for the thumbs up. He decided to just send a bunch of them – Ian would know what he meant.

 

_that good?_

_mhmm_

_didn’t u once say it was the only reason u’d keep dating me?_

_wasn't joking_

_i figured :) picked up lip a little while ago. don't forget ur working tonight!_

_fuck thnx for the reminder :(_

_naw i'll be there to ~cheer u on~_

_oh?_

_i might stay at urs tonight? or u can stay at mine?_

_with ur bro & sis? pass_

_they really like u tho! they don’t mind u staying_

_uh huh_

_i asked_

_oh really_

_they said they would rather know there was someone in my room instead of knowing it was just me..._

_HAHAHAHAAAHA nice_

_so u’ll stay?_

_tip me good and i'll think about it_

_oh u’ll get more than just the tip baby ;)_

_please don’t do that_

_i was gonna give u the whole iceberg_

_u what_

_dickberg?_

_no_

_:(_

_fuck off_

_*aggressively rolls eyes* i'll see u later xx_

_mmkay x_

Mickey yawned and tossed his phone onto the couch beside him while he finished picking through the salad and doodling plans for his new artwork. He was thinking of maybe leaving it as a sketch, because he was liking the way it was coming across the page right now.

Mickey soon found himself so thoroughly engrossed in his drawing, that he barely noticed the alarm going off on his phone that warned him he was going to be late if he didn’t leave within the next seven minutes, so he changed into his uniform quickly, and made his way to work.

Almost the moment that Mickey walked through the doors and into the lockers to dump his stuff, his boss, Elle, appeared around the corner of the door. ‘Evening, Mickey,’ she greeted, grinning widely.

‘Hey,’ Mickey replied, tying the apron around his waist and fixing the collar of his shirt. ‘Looking busy tonight?’

‘Only a few spare tables, so yeah,’ Elle nodded. ‘There’s a loud family sitting in one of the booths requesting you as their waiter.’

‘I know.’

‘You know them, then?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘You could say that.’

‘You don’t sound that happy,’ Elle said, tilting her head, and pushing the white blonde hair from her eyes. ‘I can have them moved, if you want?’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m kinda... dating them.’

‘All of them? That sounds tiring. Maybe I should give you some extra time off,’ Elle joked.

Mickey cracked a small smile. ‘Nah, just one of them.’

Elle hummed thoughtfully. ‘Well, the brunette young woman is sitting a bit close to one of the guys, so unless your girlfriend is cheating on you, then I’m saying it’s the redhaired girl beside her? Even though she looks a _tad_ too young for you.’

Mickey’s smile disappeared as he tucked his notepad and pen into his apron pocket. ‘Nope,’ Mickey flicked his eyes up at her as he shut his locker. _Does Elle need to know? Would she_ care _?_ ‘The, uh... the other... redhead.’

Elle disappeared for a moment as she darted to look into the dining room. When she came back, her eyebrows had shot into her hairline, and she leaned forward to whisper, ‘Mickey, you never told me you were gay. What’s his name?’

Mickey hesitated, before he muttered, ‘Ian,’ and paused before continuing with, ‘Didn’t think it would matter.’

 ‘Doesn’t,’ Elle smiled. ‘But that boy is _fine_.’

Mickey grinned. ‘I know.’

Elle laughed. ‘Okay, enough chit chat. Get your butt on the floor.’

‘I’m going!’ Mickey replied, leaving the locker room.

‘Hey, Mickey?’

‘Mm?’ Mickey asked, pausing at the door and turning back around.

‘Thank you for coming in during your break. I’ll have the guys make a pizza for you to take home.’

‘Thanks, Elle.’

‘And thank you for trusting me with that,’ she added. ‘I know how difficult it must be for you to tell people.’

Mickey nodded once before leaving through the doors and going out into the dining room. He headed straight over to the Gallaghers’ table and kicked Ian in the leg to get his attention. ‘Hey, asshole.’

Ian turned, prepared to give the server a piece of his mind about being called “asshole”, but his expression switched rapidly to one of utter delight when he saw who it was. ‘Hey!’

‘Oh, he’s a waiter, how cute,’ the guy beside Ian said sarcastically.

Mickey looked at the curly, sandy blonde hair and realised this must be Lip. ‘Head waiter, thank you very much.’

‘Head waiter on the floor?’ Lip asked, cocking an eyebrow and scanning Mickey. ‘Still got those delightful tattoos, huh? You’re allowed to work with those?’

Mickey gave Lip a benign smile. ‘Yes, still got the tattoos. They’re _tattoos_. They’re not just gonna disappear, unlike your hair. Got the start of a bald patch there, Gallagher. As for working? Everyone gotta pitch in, and this is a non-discriminative workplace that knows someone’s work ethic is not defined by their appearance, so kindly, go _fuck_ yourself.’

Lip raised his other eyebrow and looked around the table in disbelief, waiting for someone to back him up.

When no one did, Mickey smiled again, more genuinely this time, at the occupants of the table. ‘So, are we ready to order?’

Ian grinned broadly up at his boyfriend. ‘I’ll just have orange juice.’

‘As usual,’ Mickey said, jotting that down on his notepad. He took the orders from the rest of the table (coke for the three younger Gallaghers, wine for Fiona, and beer for Jimmy and a very pissed off Lip) then left for the kitchens to get their drinks.

He returned a few minutes later to pass everything out, and allowed himself a couple of minutes to crouch down and talk to Ian, who seemed more than happy to comply.

‘So are you coming to my apartment tonight?’ Ian asked, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Mickey’s carefully gelled hair.

Mickey shrugged. ‘What’s tomorrow?’

‘Tuesday. Why does it matter? I thought you had the next two weeks off from everything.’

Mickey blinked. ‘Fuck, that’s right. Uh, yeah. I guess I’ll be over after my shift, then.’

‘No, please take him away,’ Debbie groaned. ‘We don’t want to hear you guys.’

‘Ay, quiet. Nothing is gonna happen apart from me sleeping.’

‘Make sure that’s all.’

‘Debs, what the hell?’ Ian asked. ‘It’s my apartment, we’ll do what we want.’

Debbie sipped her drink. ‘Not while we’re there. It’s common courtesy, Ian.’

‘Yeah, fine,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Bringing pizza?’

‘Always.’

‘Okay,’ Ian kissed Mickey’s forehead quickly. ‘You should get back before your boss gets on my ass.’

‘Nobody gettin’ on your ass but me, Gallagher,’ Mickey grinned and stood up. ‘But I suppose you’re right. Wanna order any meals?’

 

* * *

 

Serving the Gallaghers definitely improved Mickey’s night. There were a bunch of rude and demanding asshole customers sitting a couple of tables over from Ian and his family, so seeing him sitting there, mocking them and their snooty-ass accents, made Mickey feel better. Somehow, he managed to keep his cool, but that was probably because whenever he went to bring them more bread or whatever the fuck, he kept remembering Ian’s impersonations.

Despite the fact that Lip was still trying to shame him for being a waiter, Mickey was glad they were all there. He had been hanging out with Ian so much lately that it felt weird not being pretty much stuck to his side. Jesus.

As Mickey delivered the bill to the Gallaghers, Ian caught him by the hand to grab his attention. ‘You definitely coming over?’ he asked.

Mickey gently removed Ian’s hand, giving a cursory glance around the restaurant. Just because Elle knew he was gay didn’t mean everyone else needed to as well. ‘Dunno. Yes?’

‘You said you would.’

‘Yeah, if you tipped me well,’ Mickey sighed melodramatically. ‘And I haven’t got a tip yet.’

‘Said you’d get more than just the tip,’ Ian murmured.

‘Don’t be crass, this is my place of employment.’

Ian grinned. ‘When do you get off?’

‘About an hour and a half,’ Mickey paused and bit his lip thoughtfully. ‘Then maybe again around one.’

‘Deal. Want me to come back and pick you up?’

‘Nah. I’ll just see you when I see you.’

‘Okay,’ Ian said, handing Mickey the bill back, one of Lip’s credit cards inside.

‘Be right back,’ Mickey said, going up to the till to have the bill sorted. As he stood there, one of the other servers, Charlie, came up beside him and stared at him. ‘The fuck do you want?’ he asked, glaring back at her.

‘You _that_ desperate for extra money?’ Charlie asked, tilting her head.

‘What?’

‘Selling sexual favours to patrons of your workplace? Any of this ringing a bell?’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘That ginger dude. I heard you.’

‘Huh?’

‘You said you’d go to his house if he tipped you well,’ Charlie raised her eyebrows in question. ‘Don’t blame you, dude. He’s pretty hot.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Look, I like you and everything –’

‘Yeah, I like you too, that’s why I’m giving you some friendly advice and suggesting you _stop_ whoring yourself out at work. Don’t want Elle to fire you, because that bitch, Penny or something, is next in line for your job.’

‘I’m not _whoring_ myself out,’ Mickey hissed, grabbing his completed bill and credit card from the bench, and making a split second decision to clear up the whole mess by adding, ‘That’s my boyfriend.’

‘Hey, hey, hold up,’ Charlie called, as Mickey stalked away. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. ‘You’re _gay_?’

‘Problem?’

‘No, no. Just didn’t picture it. What’s the whole “tip and I’ll go back to yours” thing? You doing a little role play or something?’ she asked. ‘Oh God, I don’t want to know about your kinky sex life. Forget I asked.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Nothing like that. Don’t listen to other people’s conversations because you end up interpreting things _seriously_ wrong,’ he shook his arm out of her grasp and went back to Ian’s table.

‘You good?’ Ian asked. ‘Looked like you were having a bit of an argument there.’

‘She thought...’ Mickey stopped and shook his head. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

‘Okay,’ Ian smiled and stood up from his chair. ‘We’ll get going.’

Mickey nodded. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Kay,’ Ian leaned slightly closer to Mickey, but thought better of what he was about to do, and settled for subtly brushing his hand over Mickey’s hip. ‘Bye.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Now get your ass outta my restaurant, Gallagher.’

Ian laughed. ‘I’m going, I’m going.’

‘Bye, Mickey!’ the rest of the Gallaghers chimed, as they led Ian out the front doors.

Mickey rolled his eyes, and went back to work, hoping the rest of his shift would fly by.

 

* * *

 

Mickey yawned as he knocked on Ian’s front door, momentarily tightening his grip on his pizza box.

The door swung open to reveal Ian in his usual late-night, floating around at home clothes, aka sweatpants and a tank. ‘Hey,’ he smiled, stepping back to let Mickey in. ‘How was the rest of your shift?’

‘Boring as fuck,’ Mickey replied, passing Ian the pizza and going to his room to change into whatever clothes he could find that wasn’t his work uniform, regardless of whether it was his or Ian’s. (Turns out that either Ian had been casually stealing bits of Mickey’s clothing, or they had started sharing at some point.)

Ian’s eyebrows lifted as Mickey came into the kitchen. ‘Couldn’t find anything of yours?’

Mickey looked down at his outfit, then back up to Ian. ‘This shirt started as mine.’

‘Thought you said I could keep it?’

‘Yeah, well. Doesn’t mean I can’t wear it sometimes.’

‘True,’ Ian nodded, passing Mickey a piece of the pizza. ‘Beer?’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey smiled, taking the bottle Ian held out to him. ‘Where’s Radar?’

‘Debbie dognapped him,’ Ian paused thoughtfully. ‘Actually I think he might’ve gone willingly.’

‘I’m going to dognap him right the fuck back,’ Mickey said through a mouthful of pizza. He frowned as they went into the living area. ‘The fuck’s with the mattress?’

‘Lip’s staying with me,’ Ian explained. ‘Both the other rooms were taken and he’s sure as fuck not sleeping with me, or in my room.’

‘Fair enough,’ Mickey said, sinking into Ian’s couch. ‘Man, I’m fuckin’ tired.’

‘No sexytimes, then?’ Ian pouted.

Mickey snorted. ‘Don’t call it that.’

‘Sorry, allow me to correct myself.’ Ian cleared his throat. ‘No anal penetration, then?’

Mickey’s eyes widened as he bit into his piece of pizza. ‘Don’t call it that either.’

‘Hanky panky?’

‘No.’

‘Nookie?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘Lust and thrust?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Can there be no lusting and thrusting, please?’ Debbie called from the kitchen.

‘Sorry, Debs,’ Ian said, biting back a laugh. ‘Have you still got Radar?’

‘Yeah, he followed me out. Why?’

Mickey handed Ian his plate and went swiftly towards the kitchen. He poked his head around and saw Radar sitting at Debbie’s feet, as she rifled through the fridge. ‘Psst,’ Mickey said, getting the dog’s attention. ‘Hey, buddy.’

Radar’s tail started thumping against the kitchen floor as Mickey walked towards him.

Mickey grinned and crouched in front of him, scratching his ears. ‘How you been?’ he murmured, scrunching his face as Radar started licking him. ‘That’s great,’ Mickey said, pushing the dog (and his tongue) away gently. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while, huh?’

‘Mick, you saw him yesterday,’ Ian reminded him, dumping the plate in the dishwasher, and finishing off Mickey’s pizza. ‘It hasn’t been that long.’

Mickey turned his head and levelled him with a glare. ‘Shut up.’

‘Ian, have you got anything that’s like... covered in chocolate?’ Debbie asked, giving up on her search through the fridge.

‘Uh...’ Ian turned towards his pantry and clicked his tongue as he looked through it. ‘I’ve got a _block_ of dark chocolate, some chocolate covered pretzels, and a few Snickers bars, but those are Mickey’s.’

‘I’ll take the pretzels,’ Debbie said, grinning as Ian threw the bag at her. ‘Thank you, Ian!’ she called, going back towards her room.

‘You want a shower?’ Ian asked Mickey, watching as his boyfriend continued to bond with his dog.

‘Mm, that’d be great,’ Mickey said, giving Radar a final pat, then standing up and stretching.

‘Okay, well, you know where everything is,’ Ian said, waving his hand towards the bathroom.

‘Yeah, I do, seeing as I fucking cleaned it all a few days ago.’

Ian smiled and kissed his cheek. ‘If you want a toothbrush, there are spares in the bottom drawer, but if you can’t be bothered, then help yourself to some mouthwash or whatever.’

‘A’ight. Make sure Debbie doesn’t take Radar back,’ Mickey said, making his way towards the bathroom.

As he shut the door, he heard Ian reply, ‘I’ll do my best!’

 

* * *

 

Ian’s shower really did have amazing water pressure. Kind of made Mickey wonder why they spent so much time at _his_ apartment, when they had this one at their disposal. He was enjoying the thrumming of the water against his back, when he heard the door open.

Mickey poked his head out cautiously to see Ian at the sink. ‘Man, the fuck are you doing?’

Ian turned around and grinned, showing off a mouth of foam. ‘Teef,’ he explained.

Mickey rolled his eyes and went back to the water. ‘You’re an impatient little fucker, aren’t you?’

Ian had apparently cleared his mouth, because the next time he spoke, he clearly said, ‘Well, I’m not exactly little. In any sense of the word.’

‘Hah,’ Mickey snorted. ‘Pretty secure in yourself there, Gallagher.’

‘Don’t need security when I get told all the time.’

‘By who?’

‘You.’

‘Me?’

Ian poked his head into the shower and let out a quiet moan. ‘Oh, _Ian_ ,’ he said breathily. ‘Your dick is so _huge_.’

‘I don’t sound like that.’

‘Oh, Ian, your cock, it just... It just _fills_ me right up. I feel so... _full_ ,’ he continued. ‘Your _huge_ dick is just so _perfect.’_

‘Pretty fucking sure I’ve never said any of that,’ Mickey replied adamantly, squirting some of Ian’s body wash into his hand, and beginning to clean himself in a rather aggressive manner.

‘Oh yeah? What was it you said to me last week?’ Ian tapped his chin thoughtfully. ‘I remember. _“Fuck, Gallagher, your dick is gonna split me in half one day, I swear to fucking Christ,”_ but then my personal favourite bit came along, which was something like... _“Your cock is fucking huge, Jesus fucking shit, get it the fuck in me,”_ and something about filling you up again.’

Mickey blushed and began rinsing himself. Okay, maybe he had been caught up in the moment a bit. ‘You’re an asshole.’

‘No, _you’re_ an asshole. I’m a dick,’ Ian grinned. ‘I’m going to bed now. See you in a few.’

‘Whatever. Dick.’

Ian laughed and left the bathroom, and Mickey hoped like Hell that he would have no more random interruptions.

He quickly rinsed the gel from his hair and shut off the water as he blindly groped around for a towel, mid-yawn. His hand eventually landed on one, and he dried off quickly, only to discover that apparently Ian had stolen his clothes. ‘Fucking asshole,’ Mickey muttered.

He wrapped the towel tightly around his waist, quickly swirled some Listerine around his mouth, and opened the bathroom door to leave. ‘The fuck are you doing?’ Mickey asked, suddenly hyperaware of his towel situation, now that Lip was standing in front of him.

‘Ian told me the shower would be free in a couple of minutes,’ Lip said, doing anything but glancing down to Mickey’s towel. ‘Why aren’t you wearing clothes?’

‘Your brother stole them. Did it not occur to you that I might still be _in_ the shower?’

‘Thought Ian was being a little shit by saying “in a few minutes”.’

‘Right. Well. If you don’t mind, I’m in a towel, so I’ll be going,’ Mickey said awkwardly, trying to inch his way past Lip.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Lip said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but decided against it, and just manoeuvred himself into the bathroom, shutting the door and clicking it locked.

Mickey yawned again, and padded towards Ian’s room. Once he was in, he shut the door and located his clothes. ‘You’re a dick,’ he said, throwing his balled up towel at Ian’s head.

‘Why?’ Ian asked innocently.

‘You stole my clothes, and I ended up having a short and awkward as fuck conversation with Lip. While naked.’

‘Oh,’ Ian laughed. ‘Sounds fun.’

‘Nope,’ Mickey muttered, sliding into Ian’s bed and cocooning himself in the sheets, being mindful not to kick Radar in the head.

‘Definitely no lust and thrust tonight?’

‘Too tired. And your dog is here.’

‘No making the beast with two backs?’

‘Stop giving me all these fucking euphemisms.’

‘Smacking the salmon?’

‘Ian, I swear to God,’ Mickey said angrily, though the overall tone was kind of lost as his voice was muffled by all the blankets around him. ‘Shut up, and come here to be a space heater.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why the fuck not?’

‘You’ve made yourself into a burrito, Mick. Let go of the blankets and I’ll spoon the shit out of you.’

Mickey huffed, but loosened his hold on the blankets enough to let Ian into his bubble. ‘Hurry up. I’m freezing.’

‘You just got out of the shower.’

‘Yeah, and probably got pneumonia while I had a friendly little chat with your brother _while I was naked_.’

‘You’re so dramatic,’ Ian murmured. ‘You had a towel on. You weren’t naked.’

‘Don’t know if you’ve ever realised that towels aren’t actually clothing.’

‘They’re still a barrier between being butt naked and... the air, I suppose.’

‘Not clothing,’ Mickey repeated. ‘Can we sleep now?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian sighed. ‘But before we do, I need to ask you something.’

‘Go for it,’ Mickey said, wiggling backwards and closer to Ian.

‘Did you mean it when you said you would be okay with me going overseas for a few months? For that job in London?’

‘I don’t want to hold you back.’

‘That’s not answering the question.’

Mickey hesitated before answering with, ‘Yeah. I’d be okay with that.’

‘Really?’

_No._ ‘Of course.’

‘Oh,’ Ian said, sounding a bit disappointed.

‘Why?’

‘Thinking of accepting it. I’m gonna talk to Lip about it tomorrow. You’re going to see Mandy, right?’

‘Yeah, I’ve kind of been ignoring her.’

‘I’m sure she’s okay with it. Oh, invite her and Lana and Flynn to the New Year’s party, okay?’

‘Why the fuck not,’ Mickey muttered. ‘You really gonna go to London?’

‘Well, I mean, we’ll talk about it again when we’re both fully awake, but yeah. Definitely considering it,’ Ian replied. Mickey felt him shrug. ‘But only if you’re okay with it.’

_I’m not._ ‘I am.’

‘Mmkay,’ Ian sighed again and wiggled a bit further into the bed. He kissed the back of Mickey’s head and murmured, ‘Night.’

‘Yeah. Night.’

God knows how much Mickey didn’t want Ian to go, but he sure as fuck wasn’t gonna hold him back. Maybe, for once, Mickey would have to swallow his pride and self satisfying attitude and let him go. It would be good for him, right? Good for them?

Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's now like 2:35am. current mood: brain stew by green day.
> 
> [hmu if u want.](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	12. Firecrotch Like A Fuckin' Flamethrower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be the last chapter i post before christmas, so merry christmas to everyone! or happy whatever-else-holiday you may or may not celebrate. if you don't celebrate anything, then... have a great day, i suppose?

Ian woke up happy. He wasn’t completely sure why – it might’ve been because he knew that today he would be hanging out with Lip, who he hadn’t talked to properly in _months_ , but it could’ve also been because at some point during the night, Mickey had enveloped him into his blanket burrito, so now they were wrapped up and perfectly warm.

Or maybe it was because Mickey woke him up with his mumbling.

To begin with, Ian wasn’t even sure what Mickey was saying. As he became fully conscious and the rest of his brain woke up, Ian was able to understand the majority of Mickey’s words. Whatever had caused it, Mickey was talking about him.

‘Ian,’ Mickey mumbled, sighing gently in his sleep. ‘Ian.’

Ian smiled and bit his lip as he waited for Mickey to continue.

‘Mmmm, Ian,’ Mickey continued. ‘Mm.’

‘What about Ian?’ Ian asked quietly, hoping maybe Mickey would respond to his question.

‘Fuckin’.... Hot.’

‘He’s hot?’

‘Mm,’ Mickey sighed again. ‘Ian.’

‘Ian loves you, you know.’

‘Love him.’

Ian blinked. _Love him?_ ‘You love Ian?’

‘Love Ian,’ Mickey confirmed.

Ian couldn’t stop grinning. He might’ve been unconscious, but Mickey had just said he loved him, so Ian was going to take what he could in the moment, and maybe question him about it later. He kissed Mickey’s bare shoulder gently, and slipped out of bed to take Radar out.

He would leave Mickey to whatever good dream he had apparently been having.

 

* * *

 

Mickey wasn’t having a good dream.

_Ian had made his decision. His suitcase was packed, and he had organised everything so he was ready to leave the next day._

_Mickey didn’t know what he would say to make him stay. He didn’t know if there was anything he_ could _say. Besides, if this was going to help progress Ian towards where he wanted to be in his life, then Mickey wasn’t going to hold him back. Mickey had done enough already._

_‘Are you going to come say goodbye at the airport?’ Ian asked._

_‘Did you call me specifically to ask if I’m gonna farewell you? Hold up a banner saying “Bon fucking Voyage!” or something?’ Mickey replied, laying on the sarcasm thick._

_‘Just a question, babe. I know you said you were busy, but I haven’t seen you in a few days, and I don’t want the last thing you told me face-to-face to be “Go shove a cactus up your ass, you redheaded fuck,” you know?’_

_Mickey sighed angrily and ran his hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know.’_

_‘Okay, well. My plane leaves at four,’ Ian said, dithering helplessly at the other end of the line. ‘I miss you, Mick.’_

_Mickey felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what to say, so he settled for, ‘Yeah,’ and just listened to Ian’s breathing._

_After a few moments, Ian said, ‘I should make sure I’ve got everything. I’ll see you later?’_

_‘Don’t know,’ Mickey muttered._

_‘Please come,’ Ian said, on the verge of pleading. ‘Got to go. Bye, Mickey.’_

_‘Yeah,’ Mickey said hoarsely. ‘Bye.’_

_As the line clicked off, Mickey let out a scream and threw his phone onto the other end of the couch. The burn in his throat was quickly accompanied by tears starting to flow down his cheeks. He didn’t want Ian to go to London. He didn’t want Ian to go fucking_ anywhere _._

_He almost missed his chance to tell Ian that. He arrived at the airport at just before three, hoping that he could use the extra time to maybe convince Ian not to go._

_Mickey found Ian outside his terminal, surrounded by the rest of the Gallaghers, of course, and tried to ignore how Ian’s face lit up when he saw Mickey walking towards him._

_Ian left his family to walk swiftly through the crowds towards Mickey, and engulfed him in his arms. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ Ian murmured._

_‘Me either,’ Mickey replied, relishing the feel of Ian in his arms and mentally beating himself up for even contemplating letting Ian go without seeing him again._

_‘After what you said the other day...’_

_‘I know,’ Mickey nodded._

_‘It got me worried. Like, I got the distinct impression you don’t want me to go,’ Ian said, somewhat jokingly._

_Mickey shut that joking right the fuck down. ‘I don’t, Ian.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘I don’t want you to go.’_

_‘You don’t?’_

_‘No,’ Mickey said, pulling back and dropping his arms from the man in front of him. ‘I don’t want to hold you back, but I don’t want you to go. You’re...’_

_Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘What about me?’_

_‘I mean... You’re hot,’ Mickey offered lamely. Yeah, like that would be enough to keep him here._

_‘Is that all? I’m hot?’_

_Mickey looked down. ‘Just don’t go, okay?’_

_‘Why not?’ Ian crossed his arms. ‘And give me a better explanation than my looks.’_

_‘Because I love you,’ Mickey mumbled._

_‘Sorry,’ Ian cupped his ear and leaned forward. ‘What was that?’_

_‘I said I love you, asshole!’ Mickey cried. ‘That’s why I don’t want you to go.’_

_Ian dropped his hand and his snarky attitude. ‘You love me?’_

_‘’Course I fucking love you, dumbass.’_

_Ian stared at Mickey for what felt like eternity. He didn’t say anything, but his features were etched with something akin to pity, and he barely registered when a voice over the loudspeaker announced the last call onto his flight._

_‘Yo,’ Lip called, coming over to where the pair of them were standing. ‘You’re gonna miss your flight, man.’_

_Ian blinked and looked away from Mickey. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I should go.’_

_‘Probably,’ Lip pulled his brother in for a hug and slapped him on the back. ‘Go get ‘em, Gallagher.’_

_‘Thanks, Lip,’ Ian smiled, letting go of Lip and turning back to Mickey as his brother walked away. ‘I’ve got to go, Mickey.’_

_‘Please, Ian.’_

_‘No, Mick, I can’t,’ Ian shook his head. ‘I can’t do this right now. I have to leave.’_

_‘Stay,’ Mickey begged – God, was he actually_ begging _Ian right now? ‘Please.’_

_‘I can’t.’_

_‘Ian.’_

_‘If you didn’t want me to go, you should’ve told me earlier,’ Ian shrugged, his face an emotionless mask. ‘You can’t do this to me now.’_

_‘Ian, I –’_

_‘Mickey,’ Ian said, shutting his eyes and rubbing them tiredly. ‘I can’t. I have to go.’_

_Mickey watched, helpless, as Ian quickly said his goodbyes to his family, and left to get on his plane._

_Ian never looked back._

 

* * *

 

‘Ian,’ Mickey mumbled, trying to cover his face with blankets. ‘Ian, stop licking my face.’

‘I’m not licking your face,’ Ian replied. ‘Radar is. And he just spent a good ten minutes licking his ass area, so...’

Mickey’s eyes shot open. Ian was standing in front of him grinning, and Radar was sitting with his head on Mickey’s pillow. ‘Would it have been that hard to make him _not_ lick my face?’ Mickey asked, turning over and shoving his face in Ian’s pillow.

‘Mm... Nah,’ Ian laughed and jumped onto the bed beside Mickey. ‘Hey,’ he smiled, kissing Mickey’s forehead. ‘You gonna get up?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m hiding.’

‘From what?’

_You._ ‘Everything.’

‘Why?’

_You left me._ ‘Because.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘What if I made you bacon?’

‘Nuh uh.’

‘What do you feel like? Please don’t say Russian salad.’

‘French toast,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘If you want.’

‘French toast?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘What am I apologising for?’

‘My dream.’

‘Your dream? Was I in your dream?’ When Mickey remained silent, Ian sighed and stood up ‘Alright. I’ll make you French toast on behalf of dream me.’ He patted Mickey on the leg (or where he assumed his leg to be - it was kind of hard to tell with all the blankets) and left the room. 

As Ian moved around the kitchen preparing their breakfast – everyone else be damned for the moment – he wondered what had happened in Mickey’s dream to make him so... Upset. Granted, Ian had never really seen Mickey upset so he wasn’t actually sure if that’s what was happening right now, but Mickey had become a quiet blanket dweller, so it was in the cards, at least. He made some bacon for Mickey as well, because he knew he liked bacon with everything in the mornings, regardless of if he said he wanted some or not, and poured him a mug of black coffee, before taking a tray with the food on it to his room. 

‘Hey,’ Ian smiled, seeing Mickey now sitting up in bed. ‘You feeling better now?’

‘No,’ Mickey mumbled in reply, grabbing the mug and bringing it to his lips. 

‘Can I ask what made you so...’ Ian trailed off and raised his eyebrows in question as he gestured at Mickey. 

‘No. _’ Like fuck Ian was gonna get wind what just happened._  

‘To me, sounded like you were having a good dream,’ Ian offered. 

‘Nope.’

Ian watched Mickey silently while he dug into his French toast. As he brought his legs up under himself to sit cross-legged on the bed, Ian said, ‘You said you loved me.’

Mickey paused, bacon halfway to his mouth. ‘Did I?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh,’ Mickey said, and resumed eating like nothing had happened. 

‘Did you mean it?’ Ian asked quietly. 

Mickey paused and let out a long sigh. ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘’Course.’

Ian grinned, but decided not to poke that particular bee's nest any further. ‘Why did I make French toast, then?’

‘Dream Ian was a dick.’

‘What did dream Ian do?’

Mickey looked up and glared at him by way of answer. 

Ian nodded once. ‘Got it. Don’t ask.’

Mickey nodded and went back to his food. ‘Sorry about last night, by the way.’

‘Sorry? What for?’

‘Said we’d _get off_ around one and we never did. I was just way too tired.’

‘I know, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Before I forget, what was that thing with that girl about last night?’

‘Huh?’

‘You were arguing with another server, I think.’

‘Oh,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and bit into his toast. ‘She thought I was exchanging a good tip from you for sexual favours from me.’

Ian’s eyes widened. ‘You what now?’

‘Yeah, then I told her it wasn’t some weird role play thing because you were my boyfriend and –’

‘Wait,’ Ian interrupted. ‘You came out?’

‘No. Well, yes. Only to Charlie and Elle, because she thought I was dating Debbie and... Yeah.’

‘So you told them you were dating me?’ Ian grinned.

‘It’s not like I’m _embarrassed_ about you, or, y’know, being gay, because I’m _not_ , it’s just hard to come out because of... y’know,’ Mickey looked down and stared into his coffee. ‘Change topic.’

Ian reached out to pat Mickey’s knee gently. _It’s okay, I get it._

Mickey seemed to appreciate the gesture, because he looked up and gave Ian a small smile.

‘Right. So you’re hanging out with Mands today?’

‘Mhmm. I think she said we were going to have a movie marathon after swapping presents.’

‘Oh, I got her something,’ Ian said, getting up and going over to his closet. He pulled a box out from somewhere, and put it on the end of his bed. ‘Give her that.’

‘What is it?’ Mickey asked warily. ‘Not gonna upstage mine, is it?’

Ian laughed. ‘Nah. But I put it from you as well, just to be safe.’

‘Do I get to know what is, at least?’

‘Also no.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘It’s just gonna have to be a surprise, I guess.’

Mickey scowled at him. ‘Fine.’

‘Keep your face like that and it’ll freeze when the wind blows,’ Ian said lightly. ‘I’m gonna go wake everyone up.’

‘Okay. Kick Lip in the nuts for me,’ Mickey said, giving Ian a thumbs up.

Ian grinned. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

 

* * *

 

‘Is that Ian’s shirt?’ Debbie asked suspiciously, the moment Mickey walked into the kitchen.

Mickey looked down at his chest. ‘So what if it is?’

‘I got him that shirt.’

‘So? Don’t you steal shit from your boyfriend?’

Debbie raised an eyebrow. ‘I return it after.’

‘Good for you. So do I.’

‘Hey! You’re out of bed,’ Ian grinned, standing by the stove. ‘Thought you were going to be in bed the whole day and miss your Mandy date.’

‘She’d cut my balls off and feed them to me for dinner if I did that,’ Mickey muttered, getting a coffee refill from the machine next to Ian.

‘Probably,’ Ian replied, leaning over to kiss Mickey’s cheek. ‘When are you going to see her?’

‘When she texts me to say she’s awake.’

‘Mandy’s in New York, too?’ Lip asked from the table.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, launching himself into the protective big brother role. ‘Put your dick anywhere near her and I’ll remind you these tattoos aren’t just for show,’ he said, waving his fingers at him.

Lip held his hands up and went back to his newspaper (was he reading the fucking _stock_ page?). ‘Got a girlfriend, man.’

‘Never stopped you before, did it?’

Lip flicked his eyes up to Mickey and said, ‘Amanda’s different.’

‘ _Amanda_?’ Mickey laughed. ‘Can’t even find a girlfriend with a different fucking name. Must make muff hopping a hell of a lot fuckin’ easier.’

‘Mick,’ Ian said quietly. ‘Please don’t use the word “muff” in my kitchen before midday. I eat here, I don’t want to throw up here.’

‘Wow, you’re definitely gay,’ Carl remarked, receiving a sharp _whack_ from Debbie for the effort.

‘How am I related to _any_ of you?’ Debbie said exasperatedly.

‘Well, half your DNA comes from our glorious patriarch, F –’

‘Fuck off, Lip,’ Debbie said, shooting him a warning glare.

To Mickey’s surprise, Lip actually listened and stopped speaking. Kudos to Debbie for mastering the art of silencing Lip Gallagher.

 

* * *

 

It felt like years since Mickey had last seen his sister, even though it had actually only been about two weeks. Mandy threw open the door with more enthusiasm than was probably necessary, and grinned when she saw him standing there. ‘Brother!’

‘Sister?’ Mickey replied in confusion. He gingerly patted her on the back as she pulled him in for a hug. ‘What did I do?’

‘What? Nothing!’ Mandy said. ‘Just happy to see you!’

‘My ass, you – oh,’ Mickey stopped speaking and frowned at his sister as she took the bag of presents from him and left him standing in the doorway. ‘You’re only happy to see me because I bought you shit.’

Mandy smiled at him from the couch. ‘Kinda. You're okay, I suppose. I prefer presents, though.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ Mickey muttered, stepping in and shutting the door behind himself. ‘Got any coffee?’

‘Yeah, just made a pot,’ Mandy said, pawing through the bag of gifts and taking them out one by one. ‘Hurry up.’

‘Jesus, you’re so impatient.’

‘You made me wait like a week for this because you can’t bear to part from Ian, so yes, I’m impatient.’

Mickey rolled his eyes to hide the twinge of guilt that went through him and poured a mug of coffee. ‘You can just rip into shit now.’

Mandy grinned and picked up the biggest box – aka the one from Ian. ‘What’s in this?’ she asked, shaking it.

Mickey shrugged. ‘It’s a surprise.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yeah.’ _Fucking surprise for all of us._

‘It’s from you and Ian,’ Mandy looked up at him, eyebrows raised. ‘You two are so domestic that you’re buying _joint gifts_?’

‘Apparently.’

‘You guys are adorable,’ Mandy whined. ‘You know, if he wasn’t gay, it could be _me_ and Ian buying joint gifts instead of _you_ and him.’

‘Jealous of my boyfriend, huh?’ Mickey grinned, sitting on Mandy’s couch and kicking his feet (sans boots) up onto the table. ‘Lusting after your brother-in-law will get you nowhere in life.’

Mandy paused in her inspection of the box and stared at him. ‘Brother-in-law?’

‘What?’

‘You just said “lusting after your brother-in-law”. Are you two getting married?’

_Fucking SHIT._ ‘What? I didn’t say that,’ Mickey protested, feeling his cheeks turn red.

‘Yes, you did. Oh my God, did he ask you? Are you asking _him_?’

‘No.’

‘Oh my God, you are!’ Mandy stood up and looked around distractedly.

‘The fuck are you looking for?’ Mickey asked, watching her with concern.

‘I don’t know!’

‘Then sit the fuck back down!’

Mandy plopped back onto the couch and stared at her brother, tears starting to well up in her eyes. ‘Mickey...’

‘Mandy, calm the fuck down. I’m not marrying Ian.’

‘Why the fuck not?’

‘Because I don’t fucking want to!’ Mickey replied. ‘Now shut the fuck up, pretend you have a life that doesn’t revolve around who I’m fucking, and open your damn presents, okay?’

Mandy shrunk a little, but scowled at her brother and said indignantly, ‘Fine. But I expect a ring on your pale-ass finger in the next few months.’

‘Whatever. I’m not popping the question.’

‘You should,’ Mandy said, and Mickey could tell she was being completely serious. ‘You’re so good together.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey agreed softly, looking into his coffee mug. ‘Open your presents now, please?’

‘Did you just say _“please”_? Christ, okay,’ Mandy mumbled, ripping into Ian’s box. She grinned as she took the first item out. ‘See? Ian’s perfect. He pays attention to all the little details.’

‘Huh?’

‘Told him a few months ago I was thinking of taking up boxing or something,’ she grinned and held up a pair of black boxing gloves. ‘And would you look at that?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah. You’ve still got a boner for my boyfriend. What else is in there?’

‘Goodies. He’s been trying to get me into all this organic and healthy stuff recently.’

‘Don’t I fucking know it.’

Mandy laughed lightly. ‘Did he get you a subscription to Nature Box, too?’

‘Doesn’t fucking need to. He gets a fucking huge box and brings a bunch of crap round to my place whenever it arrives,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Fucking annoying.’

‘Free food, though.’

‘Yeah, that and it keeps him off my back about living off pizza rolls.’

‘You do eat a lot of pizza rolls, though. It’s a valid concern.’

‘I don’t eat _that_ many.’

‘You’re probably their sole customer, Mickey. You singlehandedly keep an entire product on the market.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Move on.’

‘ _Fine_ ,’ Mandy huffed and set about going through Mickey’s shittily wrapped gifts. She called him a dick for getting her socks (which were ultra fluffy, and she stopped complaining about once she’d put them on), flipped him off at the “Cooking for Dummies” book, and stared up at him in confusion at the last gift. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, looking between him and the small box.

Mickey cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. ‘I kinda... took it from your room a couple months back.’

‘You’re giving me my own jewellery for Christmas? Wow, that’s pretty...’ she trailed off as she opened the box. ‘It’s Mom’s locket.’

‘Yeah. You mentioned it broke and you couldn’t afford to have it fixed,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘So I kidnapped it and got it done for you.’

‘Mick, that must’ve cost you a fair amount.’

‘Nah, not really. I know a guy. Besides, I sold a painting, so I had some spare cash floating around.’

‘Really?’

_No._ ‘Yeah.’

‘You didn’t tell me you sold one,’ Mandy said, taking the chain and locket gently out of the box.

_I didn’t. I worked nearly twelve hours overtime._ ‘I don’t tell you everything,’ Mickey said.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Mandy replied, slipping the chain around her neck. ‘Thank you for this, Mick.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘It’s whatever.’

‘You know it’s not,’ she said, picking up a couple of festively wrapped items from the floor beside her. ‘Merry Christmas, asshole.’

Mickey grunted in thanks and ripped the paper off the large, squishy one. ‘Are you fucking with me?’ he asked.

Mandy grinned. ‘It’s adorable, right.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows at her and looked back down at the large (almost _definitely_ oversized) jumper in his hands. It was made of soft (thank God) beige wool, had a pattern of bees and beehives near the top and bottom, and some weird, vaguely honeycomb-ish pattern across the middle. Mickey couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘That it’s fucking cool?’

‘Well...’ Mickey cleared his throat. ‘At least it’s soft, I suppose.’

‘Yeah, and you love it.’

_Kinda do._ ‘Eh.’

‘Open the other one!’ Mandy said insistently. ‘You’ll love it, too.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey replied suspiciously, tearing off the paper. ‘Oh, hell fucking no. No fucking way. Seriously?’

‘I told you you’d love it!’ Mandy crowed.

‘Is this the extended editions?’ Mickey asked, turning the box over in his hands. ‘Mandy, please tell me isn’t a joke.’

‘Nope. _Lord of the Rings_ , extended editions. Box set,’ Mandy said proudly. ‘Ian helped me find it.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘I can’t believe you didn’t already own it.’

‘Shut the fuck up for a second,’ Mickey said, bringing the box to his chest and hugging it for a moment.

Mandy giggled at her brother as he held the box, quietly filming it on her phone. Ian was going to die laughing. ‘Need a room?’

‘Shut the fuck up. Just, shut up.’

Mandy grinned as the Snapchat video timer ran out, then saved the video to her phone and sent it to both Ian and her Snapchat story. ‘Okay, now we’re meant to be doing some sibling bonding.’

‘You said movie marathon, right?’ Mickey asked, a strange light in his eyes.

‘Oh no,’ Mandy said. ‘No. Nooo, absolutely not.’

‘Mandy.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not watching _Lord of the Rings_ with you,’ Mandy said adamantly.

Mickey calmly placed the box on the table in front of him, before he launched himself at his sister and pulled her into a headlock. ‘Yes, we are!’

Mandy swung out with her fist and whacked him in the side of the head, as she cried, ‘Hell fucking nope!’

‘Yes!’ Mickey yelled back, giving her a half strength titty twister and she struggled out of his grasp.

‘Ow, you fuckhead!’ Mandy said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring up at him. ‘Fucking _fine_!’

‘Good,’ Mickey said, relaxing his grip and letting her go. ‘Knew you’d come round eventually.’

 

* * *

 

Ian was kinda glad that Lip was staying with him, but mainly for one reason: he didn’t have to traverse through the city to see him. He could wake up, put some pants on, poke his head out of the kitchen, and see his brother sleeping on a mattress in the living room. Ian got a weird twinge of satisfaction at making his brother lie on the floor.

After Mickey left to go home and to Mandy’s, Ian went to go see where Lip had gone.

Thankfully, he was fully dressed now, having been wearing only boxers, an old shirt, and a pair of socks at breakfast. Lip was making full use of Ian’s wifi, and seemed to be in the middle of a very long and involved email.

‘Lip,’ Ian greeted, dropping onto the couch beside him. ‘We still good to hang out today?’

‘Yeah, just give me a sec,’ Lip said, staring intently at his screen as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, great. Debs and Carl are going somewhere with Fi and JimmySteve for the day, so you let me know when you decide that talking to your little brother is more important than work, okay? I’ll be in my room.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Lip agreed, checking something on a piece of paper beside him. ‘Make me some coffee?’

‘No, fuck you. Make it yourself,’ Ian called back, walking down the hallway to his bedroom.

Radar was lying on the side of the bed where Mickey had been, looking mournfully towards Mickey’s pillow. He let out a small whine as Ian entered the room.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian muttered, poking the dog gently as he sat down beside him on the bed. ‘You’re almost worse than I am.’

Radar whined again as Ian booted up his laptop, and let out a long sigh. ‘Yeah, I know, buddy,’ he murmured, stroking one hand through Radar’s fur and using the other to log onto his laptop.

He brought up his manuscript and started typing out more words, as he maintained the steady drift of his hand over Radar’s back and head. It was slow going, but it was soothing during the inevitable stress of writing.

Ian didn’t actually know how long it had been when Lip came into his room and sat on the bed on the other side of Radar.

‘So,’ Lip said, beginning to pat the dog as well. ‘Did you want to do anything today?’

‘Nah,’ Ian replied, smiling slightly as Radar moved out of Lip’s range and closer up the bed towards him. ‘Thought we could just play on the Playstation or something.’

‘If you want.’

Ian frowned and shut his laptop, putting it on the bed beside him. ‘I also wanted to talk to you about something.’

Lip cocked an eyebrow and gave Ian an amused look. ‘If you want any sex tips, please don’t ask me. Go see a doctor or something.’

‘What? It’s not about sex.’

‘Really? Thank God. Not a line I wanted to cross today.’

‘No, I’ve been offered a new job,’ Ian said, turning his gaze to his dog.

‘A new job?’ Lip asked. ‘Ian, that’s great!’

‘Nope.’

‘No?’

‘It’s in London,’ Ian explained.

‘Ahh,’ Lip nodded. ‘Mickey doesn’t want you to go?’

‘He said he would support me no matter what I decided to do.’

‘Then go.’

‘It’s not that easy,’ Ian sighed. ‘I don’t want to leave him.’

Lip rolled his eyes. ‘Is it permanent?’

‘No.’

‘Then take the job.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’

‘Why not? Think he’ll cheat on you or something?’ When Ian remained silent, Lip’s mouth quirked into one of those annoying half smiles of his. ‘No, you’re afraid of what _you’ll_ do. That’s it, isn’t it?’

Ian looked up, stayed silent, went back to watching Radar. ‘Have you cheated on him yet?’

‘No!’ Ian said sharply. ‘I would never cheat on him!’

‘Then your reasoning is a bit conflicting, man. Look, the way I see it, you have... three options,’ Lip said thoughtfully. ‘One,’ he flicked up his left index finger. ‘You stay here, stay with him, and either continue to love him or resent him for holding you back. Two,’ he put up his middle finger. ‘You stay with him and do the long distance thing for however long you’re away, and who fucking knows what’s gonna happen. You might cheat, he might cheat, you both might end up investing in fleshlights or something. Or three,’ Lip held up his ring finger and wiggled the three he now had up. ‘You cut all losses and move the fuck on in _everything_. Go to London, dump Mickey, fuck around all you want.’

‘I won’t resent him if I stay here,’ Ian said quietly.

‘You say that now.’

Ian sighed and slid down his bed until he was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. ‘So you think I should go either way, and stay with Mickey?’

‘Honestly, I don’t think you should be with a Milkovich,’ Lip shrugged. ‘But do what makes you happy. If you go and stick with him, you can have Skype sex and have the best of both worlds, you know?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian drummed his fingers absently against Radar’s spine and flopped his head to the side to look at his dog. ‘What would I do with Radar?’

‘Have a friend look after him.’

‘Mickey?’

‘Mm... Maybe not. Just in case shit hits the fan, you know?’

‘Maybe Mandy, then,’ Ian suggested. ‘I might ask her.’

‘Mandy,’ Lip said quietly. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘She’s fine. Better now she’s away from _you_. Besides, you have a girlfriend.’

‘Doesn’t mean I can’t be interested in her welfare, does it?’

‘Hah,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘It was weird enough walking in on you guys once, I don’t need you to start fucking _again_.’

‘I think you’re kind of getting revenge on the both of us by fucking her brother,’ Lip pointed out.

‘True.’

‘So what do you think you’re gonna do about London?’

‘Fuck if I know. I still have a couple months to think about it.’

‘Better get onto that decision so you can get all your ducks in a row,’ Lip said, standing to leave. ‘I’ll go make nachos or something and then whoop your ass in Mario Kart.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Ian said.

As his brother left the room, Ian couldn’t help but notice how Lip made it sound like the decision was obvious. And he was right – it was. He kinda hated Lip a little bit for being right.

 

* * *

 

_how's the sibling bonding going? :)_

_fine. mands got me lotr and we’re marathoning it :)_

_i know i helped her. watching all 3?_

_obviously_

_they’re the extended editions tho???_

_I FUCKIN KNOW ITS GREAT_

_awww babe i love ur enthusiasm_

_d u h_

_hahaha u ask mands about new years 2moro?_

_yeah she’ll come but lana and flynn have plans_

_mands didn’t?_

_hers were mostly “sit at home drinking”_

_hahaha okay good. she like her present?_

_free food subscription? nearly pissed herself with joy_

_good to hear :) im gonna stay at urs tonight okay?_

_...okay?_

_gotta talk to u about stuff_

_oh god. london stuff?_

_yeah_

_just tell me what u decided now_

_not really something u say over text_

Ian sighed as his phone started ringing. Of course, Mickey being the impatient little shit he was, he couldn’t just leave alone and have it wait until tonight. ‘Yes, Mick?’

‘What are you gonna do?’ Mickey asked faintly.

Ian took a deep breath and looked over to Lip, who nodded encouragingly. ‘I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna go.’

‘Mickey? Are you there?’

More silence. Then, ‘Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’

Ian heard Mickey exhale. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ Ian asked. ‘That all you’re gonna say?’

‘Nothing else I can say, is there?’

‘Well, yeah, you could say you want me to stay, and I will.’

‘I’m not gonna do that,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘I won’t do that to you.’

‘So you don’t want me to go?’ Ian pressed.

‘I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t wanna do.’

‘Mickey –’

‘Ian, can we just talk about this later?’ Mickey interrupted. ‘Aragorn is onscreen.’

‘What?’

‘I have to go.’

‘What? Mickey –’

‘Bye.’ The line disconnected.

Ian looked up to Lip. ‘That didn’t go well.’

‘Did you expect it to?’

‘I don’t know what I expected.’

 

* * *

 

‘Mickey?’ Mandy asked quietly, reappearing from the kitchen, a fresh bowl of popcorn in her hands. ‘You okay? I heard you talking.’

‘He’s doing it,’ Mickey said, staring blankly at the paused screen in front of him. ‘He’s going.’

‘What? Who’s going where?’

‘Ian. Job in London. He’s taking it.’

‘You don’t want him to go,’ Mandy nodded, sitting beside him.

‘Course I fucking don’t!’ Mickey said, angrily grabbing a fistful of popcorn.

‘Then tell him, fuckhead!’

‘I can’t! I don’t want to hold him back!’

‘He won’t blame you, Mick.’

‘Yes, he fucking will.’

Mandy shook her head. ‘You’re so emotionally constipated, I can feel my heart shrivelling as I sit beside you.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey muttered, pressing play on the screen and watching Legolas run around in his tights. That, at least, was something positive to happen today.

 

* * *

 

After having dinner with his family, Ian went to see Mickey. After their conversation on the phone, he didn’t know whether or not he was allowed to let himself in, so he just dithered about outside for a few minutes, before he decided to knock.

Mickey came to the door after a few moments and seemed surprised to see Ian there. ‘Hey,’ he said slowly. ‘Whatcha doin’?’

‘Waiting for you to open the door, I suppose,’ Ian replied, his voice lilting up at the end like it was a question.

‘Did you lose your key or somethin’?’ Mickey asked, turning around and going back to his kitchen, leaving Ian to follow.

‘No, I just thought that maybe after what you said on the phone that you might not appreciate me inviting myself in,’ Ian explained, shutting the door and shedding his coat.

‘Why?’

‘You sounded kinda...’

‘Kinda what?’ Mickey asked, shuffling stuff around in the frying pan on his stove.

‘Dunno. Upset, I guess.’

‘You shouldn’t spring that kinda shit on someone over the phone.’

‘You called _me_.’

Mickey shot him a look. ‘Don’t act like this is my fault.’

‘Then whose fault is it?’ Ian asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘Mine?’

‘Yes! It is your fucking fault!’ Mickey cried, angrily turning off the element and moving the pan. ‘You’re the one fucking off to fucking _London_!’

‘If you don’t want me to go, then just fucking say it, Mickey! I’ll fucking _stay_.’

‘No!’ Mickey said, slamming a plate on the bench. (Ian thanked God it was plastic.) ‘I’ve said you can do what you fucking want!’

‘Really?’

‘Yes!’ Mickey shovelled the contents of the pan onto the plate and stalked across to put it on his table. ‘Do whatever makes you happiest. Okay?’ _Stay with me._

Ian blinked and shrunk back slightly. ‘Okay.’

Mickey sighed, and the fire seemed to leave him as he got a couple of forks from the cutlery drawer, passing one to Ian as he went past. ‘Look, if you want to go, then go. Who fucking knows how long we’ll be together, and I don’t want to ruin your life by keeping you here if I might not even be in your future.’

‘Of course you will,’ Ian said quietly, grasping the fork like a lifeline. ‘I don’t want to let you go.’

‘If you go to London, I don’t wanna break up, Ian,’ Mickey said, putting his fork down and placing a hand on each of Ian’s shoulders. ‘You need to make the decision best for you. I’ll still support you.’

‘You will?’

‘Yeah, man. I already said that,’ Mickey sighed again. ‘You can’t factor me into your decisions. If you wanna go, then go. It’s okay. We’ve got Skype, we’ll be fine.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ian asked, looking up to Mickey from his hands. ‘You’re not gonna fuck around on me, are you?’

‘Nah. I’ve seen the light, and I don’t wanna go back into the darkness.’

‘Is the light my dick?’

‘Yeah, firecrotch like a fuckin’ flamethrower, man,’ Mickey grinned.

Ian smiled slightly. ‘Looks like I’m gonna go to London then.’

Mickey nodded. ‘And that’s okay with me,’ he said, leaning up to kiss Ian gently.

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t needa thank me.’

‘I do.’

‘Thank me later,’ Mickey suggested. ‘But now, I’m gonna eat. I’m fuckin’ starved.’

‘What’d you make?’ Ian asked, joining Mickey at the table.

‘Ehh, stir fry, I guess. Just threw a bunch of stuff in a pan and hoped for the best.’

‘Jesus, are you gonna be eating okay while I’m gone?’

‘I managed before I met you, I’ll manage when you’re gone,’ Mickey shrugged, pushing the plate at Ian a bit. ‘What do you think?’

Ian frowned and tentatively speared a piece of... What actually was that? Ignoring his natural instinct not to put things in his mouth unless he was sure what they were, Ian pulled the thing off his fork with his teeth and chewed slowly. Thank God, it turned out to be carrot. ‘Kinda burnt, to be honest.’

‘Ay, fuck off,’ Mickey said, prodding something green on his plate and deciding to eat it. ‘I had no idea what I was doing.’

‘I can tell,’ Ian muttered. ‘Nah, it’s not _too_ bad. I’ll teach you to cook before I go.’

‘Don’t gotta do that.’

‘I want to.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘I’m better than Mandy. Teach _her_ to cook.’

Ian looked thoughtful for a moment as he selected a piece of – hopefully fully cooked – chicken. ‘Well, I can’t do naked cooking with Mandy.’

‘Probably shouldn’t be doing naked cooking anyway, Gallagher,’ Mickey said, gesturing with his fork at the man opposite him. ‘Bit of a safety hazard. Also, dicks and food preparation?’

‘Best to keep everything under wraps,’ Ian nodded. ‘Got it.’

They continued eating in silence – well, Mickey did. Ian had just finished dinner with his family, so he ended up watching Mickey eat his vaguely burnt stir fry. Mickey’s expression as he ate blackened broccoli turned out to be more than a little bit amusing.

After that was finished, Mickey stood up and announced he was going to have a shower.

Ian bit his lip and asked, ‘Want any company?’

Mickey just shrugged and continued on his way to the bathroom. He shed off his clothes and stepped into the water, letting out a quiet sigh as it warmed his skin. He vaguely noted Ian coming into the bathroom and stepping into the shower behind him, but it wasn’t until a hand ran across his shoulders and down his back that he made any move to acknowledge him. ‘Don’t you have a shower at your apartment?’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘You know there’s a shower there.’

‘Yeah, but why didn’t you use it?’

‘I did. I just... You know.’

‘You just want to be a perv and watch me shower,’ Mickey finished.

Ian shrugged, even though Mickey wasn’t facing him and wouldn’t see. ‘I like you when you’re in the shower. You’re more... pliant.’

‘Oh really?’ Mickey asked, turning around. ‘Pliant how?’

‘Well...’ Ian said quietly, winding his arms around Mickey and trailing his hands down Mickey’s stomach. ‘You’re more susceptible to my plans.’

‘The fuck does that mean?’

‘That means if I’m really nice and I wash your back or something, you might let me romantically rim you by candlelight again,’ Ian suggested.

‘Might?’ Mickey snorted. ‘As long as we use those unscented ones, you can live with your tongue romantically attached to my ass.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, don’t know what you get out of it, but I’m sure as fuck not complaining.’

Ian grinned. ‘Good. There’s gonna be lots of making out as well.’

‘Mm... Maybe shove your tongue in my mouth before it goes in my ass, okay?’

‘Deal.’

 

* * *

 

_where are u???_

_at home? why?_

_why u not at ian’s yet????_

_leaving soon? why?_

_hurry up_

_MANDY WHY JESUS_

_///BC LIP IS HERE///_

_so?_

_so i used to fuck him a lot and it’s awkward and i'm the lone milkovich in a wolf pack of gallaghers_

_jfc okay im finding some shoes be there soon_

_ian left to pick u up like 15 minutes ago_

_ahhhhhhhh so it’s only awkward bc u have no friends_

_i have an ex-fuck buddy and his little sister who used to love me_

_debbie?_

_are there any other lil gallagher sisters?_

_probably_

_yeah probably_

_okay ian’s here. im on my way_

_GOOD. THANK U JESUS._

_i respond to mickey more than jesus but i'll take it :)_

_don’t be a lil shit_

 

* * *

 

As Mickey climbed into Ian’s car (God, it was a nice car), the first thing he said was, ‘Any idea why the fuck my sister is at your apartment already?’

‘Hi to you too,’ Ian muttered, leaning over to kiss Mickey’s cheek. ‘And yes. I said be there at seven.’

‘What time is it now?’

‘Almost eight,’ Ian said, checking the clock in the dash as he pulled into traffic.

‘Fuck.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘I’m not worried.’

‘You’re fashionably late.’

‘Whatever. Why does it even matter? What’s so important?’

‘Nothing, really. We’re probably all just going to end up playing Cards Against Humanity while the little people play Mario Kart or something,’ Ian shrugged.

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Wow, big plans.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Nah.’

They drove the rest of the way to Ian’s apartment, making small talk about their days and other little tidbits they wanted to share. They were glad to finally arrive at Ian’s apartment, because traffic was hectic, due to it being New Year’s Eve. As soon as they walked in the door, Mandy appeared and started hissing into Mickey’s ear about how unprepared she had been to see Lip in Ian’s apartment.

Ian took that as his cue to go see the rest of his family, and find out how they had dealt with Mandy’s presence. It seemed like the only person who was somewhat frazzled by it was Lip, so he did the brotherly thing and brought him a fresh bottle of beer.

‘You okay?’ Ian asked, holding out the beer to him.

Lip looked up as he took the bottle. ‘Yeah, fine.’

‘Really? Not weirded out because my best friend is here and you fucked her a few times?’

‘Mm... More than a few. More like twenty.’  
‘Twenty?’

‘Probably more than twenty.’

‘Really don’t need specifics.’

Lip grinned. ‘I’m sure I could recount every time for you if you wanted.’

‘I’ll pass,’ Ian replied, scrunching his face. ‘Though it concerns me that you could do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Tell me every time you hooked up with Mandy. Gives me the impression you’re still stuck on her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Lip said, rolling his eyes and taking a pull from his beer. ‘I’ve got Amanda.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Like Mickey said the other morning – having a girlfriend never stopped you before. You’re kind of a slut by nature.’

‘Have you met our parents? It’s fucking genetic, Ian,’ Lip pointed at him with his bottle. ‘And as I recall, you’re not exactly better than I am.’

‘I don’t cheat on people if I’m in a recognised relationship. That’s the difference.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yes, really,’ Ian put his head closer to Lip and said quietly, ‘But if you hurt Mandy again, I will break every knuckle on both your hands.’

‘Hanging out with the tiniest thug a bit too much, Ian. Picking up a few bad traits.’

‘Protecting the people I love isn’t a bad thing,’ Ian said, standing up to go find Mickey.

‘Am I not the people you love?’

‘Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,’ Ian smiled. ‘You pick your friends, not your family.’

‘God knows I wouldn’t have picked Frank.’

‘No one would pick Frank.’

‘Sheila did.’

‘Only because Frank drinks so much and it makes it easier to shove things up his ass.’

Lip blinked. ‘What?’

‘Never mind,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Gotta go save my boyfriend from his sister.’

‘Give them my love!’ Lip called.

Ian flipped him off as he searched his apartment for the missing Milkoviches. ‘Mickey,’ he sang. ‘Where are you?’ He heard some shuffling coming from in his bedroom, so he pushed open the door to see Mickey sitting on the end of his bed, and holding Mandy’s glass of wine while she rifled through one of his drawers. ‘Mands, what are you doing?’ he asked.

Mandy stood sharply and leaned casually against the open drawer. ‘Oh, hey, Ian.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Oh, you know... Nothing.’

‘That’s not suspicious,’ Ian said, suddenly spotting Radar sitting on the floor beside Mickey. ‘Why is my dog here?’

‘My sister is getting involved in animal cruelty,’ Mickey said, stroking Radar’s head sadly.

‘You’re doing _what_?’ Ian gasped.

‘Chill!’ Mandy said, holding up her hands to stop Ian’s worrying. ‘I’m just tryna make him more... Formal.’

‘By doing what?’

‘Finding him a tie.’

Ian sagged with relief. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘I know. Fuckin’ stupid idea,’ Mickey muttered.

Ian rolled his eyes and said, ‘Mands, there’s actually a little box in that drawer, and it has Radar’s bowtie in it.’

‘This box?’ Mandy asked, holding it up. ‘Didn’t want to look in it in case there was something kinky in it.’

Ian grinned. ‘Nah, that’s the drawer underneath the one you’re in.’

Mickey shrugged at his sister, as she looked over to him for confirmation. ‘It’s true.’

‘Super,’ Mandy wrinkled her nose and took the bowtie out of the box. She fastened it around Radar’s neck and scratched behind his ears. ‘Don’t you look pretty? Yes, you do! Pretty Radar.’

Mickey made a gagging noise. ‘I need to be much more drunk for this shit.’

‘I’ll drink to that!’ Mandy said, taking her glass from Mickey’s hand and downing half of it. ‘I need a refill. Don’t start fucking when I leave!’

Ian watched her leave, then shut the door quietly, and came to crouch in front of Mickey. ‘You good?’

‘Fine.’

‘Great!’ Ian said, missing Mickey’s clipped tone. ‘Come on, I’m gonna tell my family about London.’

‘Oh, yippee,’ Mickey muttered, following Ian and Radar out of the room.

 

* * *

 

To Mandy, Ian emerged into the living room with an enthusiasm that could only mean one of two things: either he was about to propose to Mickey, or he had decided to go ahead with his plans to go to London for a few months. She stood behind a couple of the smaller Gallaghers and watched as Ian got the attention of the room.

Mickey was standing beside him, looking as unhappy as he ever did, but clutching Ian’s hand like it was his job.

‘Okay, so you’re all my nearest and dearest,’ Ian began. ‘And I thought you should know something.’

‘You’re not engaged, are you?’ Fiona interrupted. ‘You’re too young for marriage, Ian. I think you should reconsider.’

‘What?’ Ian asked. ‘Never mind. No, I’ve been offered a new job.’

‘That’s great!’ Fiona said loudly, over the excited, congratulatory cheers of the other Gallaghers. ‘Where?’

‘That’s the catch. It’s in London.’

Immediately, the cheers died and plunged the room into silence. A quiet sigh from Mickey.

‘London?’ Fiona repeated. ‘That’s a big commitment, Ian.’

‘It’s not permanent,’ Ian said. ‘But... I’ve decided to go. Mickey supports me in this decision...’

Ian continued talking, but Mandy didn’t hear. She was too focussed on the way that her brother was trying to hide his absolute disappointment.

_He should’ve talked him out of it._ That was Mandy’s initial reaction. But she knew Mickey – there was no way he would let Ian go without saying something. He had become less emotionally stunted the past few years, though God knows he was nowhere near the normal level of emotional health. She just hoped that whatever level he was at, it was enough to say something and make Ian change his mind.

No matter what Mickey said or did, he would be... more or less destroyed by Ian leaving – even if it was only temporary.

 

* * *

 

Mickey had been unusually quiet the whole of the evening, and it was kind of freaking Ian out at this point.

He had been trying and failing to get him to talk, but eventually Ian just gave up and let Mickey sulk. Or whatever the fuck he was doing. Was this sulking? It seemed like Mickey was acting like a petulant child, but Ian knew that Mickey was like an emotional safe. Nothing got through without a certain combination of numbers or actions being put together _just_ right.

He also knew that eventually, whatever was eating at Mickey would just burst out. He was hoping that would happen sooner rather than later, because if there was one thing Ian hated, it was the anticipation of waiting for something. Basically, he was an impatient bastard.

It turned 11:59, and Mickey allowed a party horn to be shoved in his hand, but he drew the line at a stupid crown or pair of novelty sunglasses. As the presenter on the TV started counting down from ten, he felt everything inside him bubbling to the surface.

In one hand he clutched his beer and little gold horn, and the other, he was probably crushing Ian’s hand with.

The Gallaghers all enthusiastically called out the numbers, getting louder with each passing second. ‘Three, two, one! Happy New Year!’ they cried.

Respective partners – aka JimmySteve and Fiona – started furiously making out, while siblings hugged, Lip and Mandy stared awkwardly at each other as they tried to ignore the weird sexual tension that had appeared between them, and Ian pulled Mickey’s mouth up to meet his own.

‘Happy New Year, babe,’ Ian murmured, smiling down at Mickey.

Mickey had meant to return the salutation, but instead, something else passed his lips. ‘I don’t want you to go to London. I know I said I was okay with it, but I’m not. I’m not okay with it at all.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol imma leave u with that for a few weeks
> 
> also, a word about mickey and mandy's christmas presents: naturebox is a thing (if ur wondering - yes, i watch tyler oakley on youtube) so if u want healthy snacks, go hit them up. also, the jumper with bees on it is a thing too. i almost bought it but it was a crop one and my heart exploded into tiny pieces. may the adorable bee jumper live on in this fic. (i have big plans for that jumper.)
> 
> [come hmu on tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	13. You're Ruining My Story, You Oedipus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've been waiting for the mythology bits to appear, there are some in this chapter. (woOOH.) and happy new year, everyone!

Mickey hadn’t talked to Ian in a week.

After his accidental revelation, Ian’s face had turned into the emotionless mask that Mickey had seen in his dream. He took a step back and jerked his head towards the hall.

Mickey followed him into his bedroom and prepared for the onslaught. ‘What?’ he asked.

Ian took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. ‘You don’t want me to go.’

‘No.’

‘You said you would support me,’ Ian said quietly. ‘You said you were okay with it.’

‘Yeah, well, I lied.’

‘Apparently so.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘If you wanna go, then go. I meant what I said that I don’t want to break up with you, but I don’t want you to go.’

‘Why not?’

‘What do you mean, “Why not?”. That’s not even a relevant question,’ Mickey spat. ‘I’m a selfish asshole, that’s why not.’

‘Because you don’t want to lose me, right? That’s what you said,’ Ian said, ignoring Mickey’s tone. ‘You think I’m gonna cheat on you or something?’

‘Yes. That is _exactly_ what I think,’ Mickey said, jabbing his finger at Ian. ‘I’m a piece of shit that works two jobs and can’t get their art career off the ground. I come from a family of murderers, drug dealers and fucking hit men. I’m nothing.’

‘You’re not nothing,’ Ian said gently. ‘You think I would cheat on you because of your background? Something you can’t help?’

‘No, I think you would do it because you’ll realise there’s better people out there, and I don’t fucking want you to,’ Mickey said, sagging onto Ian’s bed. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

Ian crouched in front of Mickey on the bed and cupped his face, turning Mickey’s head to look at him. ‘Then come with me.’

Mickey blinked. ‘What?’

‘Come with me.’

‘I can’t,’ Mickey said immediately.

‘Correction: you don’t want to,’ Ian sighed.

‘I like it here. I have a job. If I go with you, I’ll be starting from scratch.’

‘It’s not permanent.’

‘Then why the fuck should I uproot my entire life for a few months?’ Mickey asked, pushing Ian’s hands off him. ‘If you go, you’re going without me.’

‘What if I don’t want to go without you?’ Ian asked, his expression hurt at Mickey’s words.

‘Tough fucking shit,’ Mickey replied. He had gone into defensive mode, and there was no way to stop it. He was probably going to end up ruining his entire relationship with Ian in these next few minutes. ‘You go, I’m staying here.’

‘You said you don’t want to break up.’

‘It’s called long fucking distance, Jesus Christ, Gallagher.’

‘You would do long distance?’

‘Are you not listening to anything I’m saying? Yes. I don’t want to break up with you.’

‘Which is why you want me to stay?’

‘I want you to stay because everyone leaves,’ Mickey said, standing sharply and making a move to leave Ian’s room. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Ever. Go if you want. We still have, what, five months with each other? If you want to stay, then stay. But don’t ask me to make any fucking decisions for you, because this is the last I’m talking about it.’

‘So, what? You want me to make a major life choice without you?’ Ian asked, standing as well and crowding Mickey against the wall. ‘You’re my partner, and you don’t want to have a part in something that could shape my future – _our_ future?’

‘Yes,’ Mickey said lowly, standing closer to Ian. ‘That is _exactly_ what I’m saying. Call me when you’ve made up your mind.’

Mickey had taken advantage of Ian’s stunned silence and momentary immobility, and had pushed past him and left the apartment, ignoring Mandy’s confused cries behind him. He went home, and all he did was yell. He couldn’t afford to lash out and break anything, though that was _exactly_ what he wanted to do. Why had he been so stupid? Why had he said that? Ian was never going to forgive him for saying that.

By four a.m., January first, Mickey had decided he was a self important asshole and should have kept his mouth firmly shut on the matter and have suffered in silence.

Around lunchtime of January second, Mickey hated himself more than he ever had for putting Ian in the position of having to make that decision by himself.

January third, three p.m., Mickey was at the gym taking his frustration and anger out on a punching bag. Usually, he would imagine his father’s face on the bag, but today it was his own. _God, why had he been such a fucking idiot?_

Just after dinner on January fourth, Mickey was wondering why the fuck he wouldn’t just go to London with Ian. Then he remembered – he shouldn’t have to uproot his life to accommodate Ian’s. It wasn’t permanent, and if they were enough of a couple to be making major life decisions, then they would be perfectly fine with fucking cybersex.

At about eight p.m., January fifth, Mickey was having withdrawals. He hadn’t talked to Ian in five days, and he didn’t know how much longer he could last. He hated himself a little bit for telling Ian to call him when he had made his decision. Knowing Ian, it could take weeks, and Mickey couldn’t _wait_ weeks. Though, Mickey knew that if Ian asked him to, he would wait a thousand years. What the fuck had Ian done to Mickey to make him his bitch like that?

January sixth, and Mickey had been furiously trying to whack one out for almost an hour. It seemed that his sadness had travelled south, and his dick was just not in the mood to play, despite how fucking sexually frustrated he was. If he couldn’t last six days, how the fuck would he last six _months_?

January seventh, and Mickey wanted to curl into a ball and never move again. So he did. He went to bed, curled pathetically around the pillow Ian had claimed as his own, and managed to get a few hours sleep. He woke up to find there was a strain in his pants he knew all too well, and let out a sigh of relief. _Please God, let this take the edge off._ He was going to get off if it killed him, so he prepared himself quickly and shoved the green plug in, putting on the lowest vibration setting. He silently sent his thanks to whatever God had made Ian get him a vibrating one, and managed to come in minutes.

He turned off the plug and left it there for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of having something in his ass, and mentally punching himself for thinking something so gay.

The choice to leave it in was one he instantly regretted when there was a knock at his door.

Usually, he would’ve just told them to fuck off, but his head was a bit hazy right now, so he just yanked some pants on and walked to the door. He didn’t bother cleaning himself off, hoping it would end up being a giant “Fuck you” to whoever was at the door for making him get up.

‘What?’ he asked, yanking open his door.

Ian turned around, looking glorious as ever, and gave him a small smile. ‘Hey.’

Mickey blinked at him. ‘Hey.’

‘Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,’ Ian said, his eyes drifting to Mickey’s stomach.

‘Uh, no. I just... finished,’ Mickey said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Why’re you here?’

‘You said to call you when I made my decision,’ Ian explained. ‘So here I am.’

‘I said “call”, not “come to my apartment”,’ Mickey muttered. ‘You wanna come in?’

‘Yeah, that’d be good,’ Ian said, going in past Mickey.

‘Help yourself to whatever you want, you know where it all is,’ Mickey said, waving his hand towards the kitchen. ‘I just gotta... do something first.’

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey’s behaviour, but nodded. ‘Thanks.’

Mickey cleared his throat and went to his bathroom to quickly clean the drying jizz from his stomach, then went to his room and reached behind himself to pull out the plug.

‘Hey, I hope you don’t mind...’ Ian started, appearing in Mickey’s doorway, and abruptly cutting off his sentence as he saw Mickey tugging on the plug. ‘Oh.’

Mickey let out a sigh as the plug came loose, and he tossed it onto his pile of dirty laundry to be cleaned off later. ‘Don’t pretend like that’s the most compromising thing you’ve caught me doing.’

Ian grinned. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Then why you acting like some virgin all of a sudden?’ Mickey asked, fishing a clean-ish tank top out of a drawer.

Ian smile faded. ‘Just not sure where we’re at.’

‘We didn’t break up, did we?’

‘Not that I’m aware.’

‘Then you’re still my boyfriend, asshole.’

Ian let out a sigh of relief. ‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he murmured, stepping toward Mickey and pulling him into a hug. ‘I missed you this past week.’

‘Yeah, same,’ Mickey replied hoarsely.

‘We do need to talk though.’

‘I figured.’

‘Oh, um. I’m having some watermelon juice, I hope that’s okay.’

‘I said it was,’ Mickey shrugged, going out to the living area. ‘What did you decide?’

‘I want to go,’ Ian said, sitting on Mickey’s couch. ‘I’ve told my boss I’m taking up the position in London.’

Mickey nodded. _Knew you would._ ‘Okay. That’s fine.’

‘You’re okay with that?’

‘Not really, but I’ll get over myself,’ Mickey replied, sitting beside him on the couch. ‘When do you start?’

‘May twenty second-ish. I’ll have to leave around the fifteenth to get settled in and everything,’ Ian explained. ‘But I know you said you think I’ll cheat on you while I’m gone, but I won’t. As Lip told me once, I’m a slut, but as I told _him_ , I’m only a slut when I’m not in a recognised relationship.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel better.’

‘No, I know. We’re in a relationship, so I won’t cheat on you, but to make you... sure, I guess, I want to ask you something.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘I have a feeling I know what you’re getting at.’

Ian smiled. ‘Then what’s your answer?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘Yes.’

Ian cocked an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

‘ _No_ , Gallagher,’ Mickey said in exasperation.

‘No, you won’t marry me.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, you will?’

‘I swear to God, I’m gonna rip your dick off and shove it down your throat if you’re not careful. You know exactly what I’m saying.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian sighed. ‘I do.’

‘Good.’

‘Is that like a _permanent_ no?’

‘For the moment,’ Mickey nodded.

‘But do you see how serious I am about you now?’ Ian asked. ‘I won’t cheat on you.’

‘You better not,’ Mickey muttered. ‘But I suppose you have my blessing, or whatever.’

‘I do? You’re okay with me going?’

‘I want you to do what makes you happy, and this seems to be it, so yeah.’

Ian yanked Mickey forward and kissed him hard. ‘You’re the best and I fucking love you.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Mickey said, running his fingers lightly over the back of Ian’s head.

‘You can come with me, Mickey. That offer will always be on the table.’

Mickey shook his head. ‘Nah. You go. We’ll be okay.’

‘Skype sex every day,’ Ian smiled.

‘Yeah.’

‘But before then, we still have Valentine’s Day and Lana’s wedding... We have plenty of time to be together before I leave.’

‘Then, uh... We should make the most of it,’ Mickey said slowly. ‘Right?’

‘Right...’

‘Like, right now.’

‘Yup.’

 

* * *

 

Once Ian had announced he was definitely going to London, and Mickey had decided he definitely wasn’t going with him, things were... better. There was no weird tension, because they both knew exactly what they were doing, and they were both okay with it.

The Gallaghers had left during the time that Mickey and Ian weren’t talking, so there was no sneaking around or reason to not see each other. Well, apart from Lip staying an extra week because of something he was doing with robots or whatever.

The rest of January saw Ian and Mickey both too consumed in work to get together too much, but it was okay – they were okay. Around the twenty fifth, Ian sent Mickey a text, which spawned into an entire conversation. Y’know, as texts usually do.

 

_hello my love :) x_

_fuck off gallagher_

_:( that’s rude_

_uh huh. what’s up_

_free on valentines?_

_why the fuck would i have plans_

_soooo that’s a yes?_

_yeah_

_good! ur not anymore_

_what why_

_it’s valentines, im ur boyfriend, we’re doin stuff._

_oh? stuff or stuff stuff_

_both if u want_

_yes_

_okay :) im organising everything so dw just turn up_

_why are u organisin already_

_less than 3 weeks!_

_oh right of course how could i not know that_

_exactly?????? wanna have dinner tomorrow?_

_ehhhhh can we just order pizza_

_yup :)_

Which was how Mickey got roped into actually celebrating Valentine’s day for the first time in his life.

He didn’t know what to expect, and that scared him a little bit, especially since Ian wasn’t obviously trying to hide anything around either his own apartment or Mickey’s. That wasn’t even the worst part. It was probably more disconcerting to see Ian watching him and smiling, or shooting him little glances, like they were in on a secret together. Mickey didn’t know what the fuck _that_ was supposed to mean.

As expected, everything sort of came to a head on February thirteenth. Ian sent Mickey a text – they never really had time to call each other, it seemed – reminding him of their date.

 

_don't forget it’s valentine’s tomorrow!_

_how the fuck could i? u haven’t given me the fuckin chance_

_just checkin!_

_u don’t have to – trust me_

_i do :) come to mine around 10ish?_

_a.m?_

_...yes? is that a problem?_

_:(_

_fine. 11?_

_:)_

_great. see u then xx_

_aight_

But in the end, Ian didn’t even need to remind Mickey, and Mickey didn’t need to negotiate the time to get to Ian’s, because just after nine a.m., Ian got sick of waiting for his ever-grumpy boyfriend to get the fuck up, so he went to his apartment to wake him up.

Initially, Ian was going to do it subtly, maybe by making him breakfast then letting the smells waft into Mickey’s bedroom, but he decided he couldn’t actually be bothered with that, so he went for the more straightforward approach and jumped onto Mickey’s bed.

‘Morning, babe!’ Ian cried, lying next to Mickey on the bed.

Mickey cracked an eye open and groaned. ‘Were you here when I went to sleep?’

‘Nope.’

‘Great. I’m hallucinating.’

‘Ah, no. I let myself in,’ Ian explained. ‘Key, remember?’

‘God,’ Mickey moaned, turning over. ‘What fucking time is it?’

‘Mm... around nine thirty?’

‘The fuck are you doing here then?’

‘Waking you up. I got bored and couldn’t wait.’

‘You’re such a child, man,’ Mickey mumbled, making himself cosy with his face in his pillow.

‘Uh huh,’ Ian rolled onto his stomach next to Mickey and let out a deep sigh. ‘Are you gonna get up?’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re so mean to me.’

‘Oh sorry, did I burst into _your_ apartment and wake you up? No.’

‘ _Mickey_ ,’ Ian whined. ‘Please?’

‘Nope.’

‘I hate you,’

‘Clearly.’

Ian rolled his eyes and kissed the back of Mickey’s neck as he got up. ‘Fine. I’ll just wait for you to get your lazy ass out of bed. I’ll watch porn on your laptop or something.’

‘Mmkay. Don’t get anything on the keyboard,’ Mickey said sleepily, waving his hand towards the bedroom door.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian muttered. ‘As enthusiastic as a sack of potatoes.’

‘I heard that.’

 

* * *

 

When Mickey finally rolled out of bed, it was closer to midday than Ian would’ve liked. It wasn’t like he had planned out every second of the day, and he hadn’t even thought of anything to do during the morning so it really wasn’t that bad, but it was Valentine’s after all, and Ian wanted to spend the day with Mickey. Preferably with him being conscious for the most part.

‘Morning,’ Mickey yawned, walking past Ian on the couch on his way to the bathroom.

‘It’s almost afternoon, Mick,’ Ian called. ‘Morning was when I got here.’

‘I would probably use the word “insanity” to describe when you got here.’

‘You’re usually at work at the time I got here.’

‘Yup, and on weekends I like to sleep in until midday,’ Mickey shrugged, coming out of the bathroom and sitting beside Ian on the couch. ‘Unless, of course, you’re here and you give me a reason to get up.’

Ian cocked an eyebrow and regarded Mickey with amusement. ‘Is my presence not enough of a reason?’

‘Mm... Nope.’

‘You’re an asshole.’

‘Yup,’ Mickey agreed. ‘What were your plans for the day?’

‘I’m kidnapping you,’ Ian said, standing up and stretching. ‘So get dressed and we can go.’

Mickey’s tongue darted out at the corner as he watched Ian. ‘But, uh... We got time to do somethin’ first?’

‘Like what?’

‘Are you seriously asking me that?’ Mickey said, spreading his legs slightly and raking his eyes over Ian’s body. ‘What do you think?’

Ian smiled and straddled Mickey’s lap. He kissed the side of his throat and worked his way down to Mickey’s bare collarbone, before he ghosted his lips back up and stopped at Mickey’s ear and whispered, ‘No.’

Mickey flopped his head back and groaned as Ian slipped off him. ‘You’re a fuckin’ tease, man.’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian agreed. ‘Using my womanly wiles to make you do what I want.’

‘Let me guess – what you want is to make me go to your apartment and do couple things.’

‘Nailed it.’

‘Is there food involved?’

‘Yup.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘Fine.’

‘Aw, don’t be like that!’ Ian said, shaking his head at Mickey. ‘I made your favourite!’

‘Favourite what? Food?’

‘Well, yeah. What did you think I was talking about?’

‘Fuck if I know,’ Mickey shrugged, standing up and sidling over to Ian.

He looked like he was about to say something, but when he didn’t, Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘Something you want to add?’

Mickey bit his lip and chewed it thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘Just, uh. Happy Valentine’s or whatever.’

Ian smiled and pulled Mickey into his arms, kissing the top of his head. ‘Yeah. Happy Valentine’s, babe. Now go get dressed. We have shit to do.’

‘Fine,’ Mickey grumbled into Ian’s hoodie. ‘Do I need anything?’

‘Nope.’

‘Kay,’ Mickey said, disentangling himself from Ian and going to his bedroom to change out of his pyjamas.

When he was done, he reappeared in front of Ian and announced himself ready to leave. Ian smiled, nodded, and led the way out of the apartment.

 

* * *

 

Once they reached Ian’s apartment, Mickey dropped his jacket on the back of the couch and said, ‘So what the fuck exactly is your plan?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Mostly get drunk and fuck a lot.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘I was under the impression that this would be a romantic day,’ he scoffed.

‘Wow, okay, two things,’ Ian said. ‘First off, is fucking not considered romantic?’

‘Not when you call it “fucking”.’

‘Jesus. Okay. Get drunk and _make love_ a lot.’

‘Better. Second thing?’

‘Right. Secondly, since when the _fuck_ are you interested in _romance_?’ Ian asked. ‘You’re Mickey Goddamn Milkovich, not some chick with stars in their eyes.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘The Valentine’s spirit is in me or whatever.’

‘The Valentine’s spirit can get the fuck out, because I’m the only one going in you tonight,’ Ian said, narrowing his eyes.

‘I’m holding you to that, gingerbread.’

Ian clicked his fingers like he had just remembered something. ‘Speaking of gingerbread.’

‘Oh God,’ Mickey groaned. ‘I’m not going to like this.’

‘On the contrary, you’ll love it,’ Ian said, dragging Mickey to the kitchen. ‘You get food out of it.’

Mickey shifted and looked visibly more interested. ‘Go on.’

Ian grinned and started pulling random stuff out of cupboards. ‘We’re making gingerbread people.’

‘We’re what?’

‘Well,’ Ian paused. ‘Ninjas. Gingerbread ninjas. Ginger ninjas.’

Mickey blinked slowly at the man beside him. ‘I can’t bake for shit.’

‘Me either,’ Ian said. ‘So we’re gonna have fun while we do it. There’s a bottle of Jameson in a cupboard somewhere, so we’ll start on that.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows in amusement. ‘Drunk baking?’

‘Mhmm. Probably a bit of a fire hazard, but whatever.’

‘Probably,’ Mickey agreed, wandering off to find the bottle of Jameson. ‘Straight from the bottle or glasses?’

‘Fuck it, go from the bottle,’ Ian said, sifting flour and ground ginger together in a bowl. ‘Pass it here.’

‘Mm, hold up,’ Mickey said, taking a swig from the bottle. ‘How drunk are we getting?’

‘Hopefully just tipsy. Drunk, but in control of our faculties.’

‘Right. We’ll aim for that, then,’ Mickey nodded.

Fast forward about fifteen minutes, and they had drunk enough to both be sufficiently tipsy.

‘Mmkay,’ Ian said, nudging Mickey out of the way. ‘Gotta get the thingys.’

‘Yup yup, you do... that,’ Mickey nodded. ‘What are we doing?’

‘Putting the stuff in the cold thing.’

‘Good plan.’

Ian hummed quietly as he pulled out a piece of cling film to wrap the dough in to refrigerate it. ‘Okay,’ he said, putting the dough on a fridge shelf. ‘Half an hour.’

‘Hmm... what should we do?’

‘I wanna smoothie,’ Ian decided, striding over to his fruit bowl and picking a bunch of things, before he went to his cupboard and pulled out some random stuff. ‘You wanna smoothie?’

‘Kay.’

‘Kay,’ Ian nodded. ‘You... banana in the thing.’

Mickey saluted Ian and dutifully peeled the banana, breaking it into chunks and putting them into Ian’s blender. ‘This stuff?’

‘Put it in,’ Ian said, sprinkling in some cocoa powder, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper. ‘I’ll get milk.’

‘Okey dokey, artichokey,’ Mickey grinned, dumping in orange segments and carefully sliced apple.

Ian poured some milk into the jug and fastened the lid. ‘Shh,’ he whispered.

Mickey gave him a thumbs up and watched Ian start the blender.

The liquid inside stayed quite a pale colour as it mixed together, and didn’t really seem that harmful to either of them after being fully mixed.

‘Aw,’ Ian smiled. ‘It’s a happy smoothie. Cup.’

Mickey reached for a cup in the cupboard above his head and passed it to Ian. ‘You first.’

‘It’s gonna be awesome,’ Ian said, pouring some into the cup. ‘Okay, here goes.’ He sipped it and shrugged, before his face abruptly changed and he spat it out into the sink. ‘Holy fuck!’

‘What is it?’

‘Fucking _hot_.’

‘Why?’

‘Cayenne pepper!’ Ian gasped, fanning himself half heartedly and making no real effort to actually solve the problem he now faced.

‘You put pepper in?’ Mickey asked.

‘Seemed like a good idea!’ Ian said, considerably more sober after his smoothie.

‘Bad idea?’

‘Bad idea!’

Mickey grinned and laughed. ‘I gotta pee. Have fun with that thing.’ He turned and left the kitchen, taking the long way out around to get to Ian’s bathroom. Once he had taken a relieving piss, he washed his hands and decided to go through Ian’s medicine cabinet for some reason. There was only one thing that really caught his eye, and he grinned as he picked it up.

‘Hey, Ian!’ Mickey called, walking back into the kitchen. ‘Why you got this?’

‘Eyeliner?’ Ian asked. ‘Dunno. Probably left from when I was a dancer back in college.’

‘A dancer?’

‘Yeah, like in a club.’

‘A _strip_ club?’

‘Nah, I was more of a go-go boy,’ Ian shrugged.

Mickey laughed and went back to the bathroom, where Ian found him carefully using the pencil to outline his eyes a few moments later.

‘Mickey, are you sure you want to do that?’

‘I used to get high or drunk or whatever and steal Mandy’s,’ Mickey said, concentrating on making a straight edged line.

‘Why?’

‘Dunno. Felt like it,’ Mickey shrugged. He looked at Ian in the mirror and grinned. ‘Hot or not?’

‘Really fucking hot,’ Ian said immediately. He grabbed the pencil from Mickey’s hand and did his own.

‘We’re too attractive for our own good,’ Mickey said, standing behind Ian and sliding his hands around his waist. ‘We should do the world a favour and never break up.’

‘Are you still drunk?’

‘Mm... maybe just a little.’

‘In that case, I’m gonna say that wasn’t a proposal of marriage,’ Ian said lightly, turning around in Mickey’s arms. ‘Gingerbread ninjas?’

‘Mmkay,’ Mickey said, leaning up to kiss Ian. He turned and left, making his way back to the kitchen.

Ian followed behind and directed Mickey to sprinkle a little flour on the bench and start rolling out the dough while he found his cookie cutters.

‘Why do you even have ninja cookie cutters?’ Mickey asked, pushing harder on the rolling pin than was probably necessary.

‘My siblings think they’re funny,’ Ian said, stretching his arms into the back of a cupboard and rummaging around blindly. ‘The whole “ginger ninja” thing came from them.’

‘Ginger ninja is a better nickname than assface,’ Mickey noted.

‘That’s probably true.’

 

* * *

 

Once the dough had been rolled out and the cookies had all been cut, the tray went into the oven, leaving Ian and Mickey with a few minutes to amuse themselves with.

‘You know what we should do,’ Ian said, pulling Mickey into his living room and abandoning him beside the couch.

‘I get the feeling I won’t like this,’ Mickey muttered, eyeing Ian cautiously as he went over to his laptop and plugged his speakers into it.

‘I think you’ll love it, actually,’ Ian said idly, scrolling through one of his playlists. ‘Here we go,’ he grinned, turning around to face Mickey. ‘Dance with me.’

_Oh, don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said “You’re holding back”, she said “Shut up and dance with me!” This woman is my destiny, she said, “Ooh, ooh! Shut up and dance with me!”_

‘God, what the fuck is this peppy shit?’ Mickey groaned.

‘It’s awesome,’ Ian said, grabbing Mickey’s hands and making him sway gently.

_Oh, we were bound to get together, bound to get together!_

‘She took my arm,’ Ian sang loudly, ‘I don’t know how it happened!’

‘Ian, we’re not doing this!’

‘We took the floor and she saaaaaid,’ Ian replied, his voice getting louder. ‘Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said “You’re holding back”, she said “Shut up and dance with me!”’

‘Guessing that’s aimed at me?’ Mickey said, giving and moving slightly.

‘Shut up and dance with me!’ Ian agreed, grinning and dancing around Mickey.

‘Fine! Jesus,’ Mickey cried, bopping awkwardly.

‘Come on, Mick! Get into it!’

‘God, I’m _trying_!’

‘You look like you’re being electrocuted, stop forcing it!’

‘I’m _trying_!’ Mickey said again.

Just when he was starting to get into a bit more, Ian stopped Mickey in his tracks. ‘Deep in her eyes,’ Ian sang quietly. ‘I think I see the future. I realise this is my last chance.’

‘You sappy shit,’ Mickey muttered.

‘She took my arm, I don’t know how it happened, we took the floor and she said...’ Ian grinned and started up his dancing again.

‘You’re a fucking psychopath!’ Mickey screeched, being wretched along with Ian’s movements. ‘Jesus, let me go!’

‘Jesus can’t help you now!’ Ian said gleefully. ‘Only dancing can!’

‘Psychopath, definitely,’ Mickey said as he gave in and danced moodily until the song ended.

Ian paused and cocked his ear towards his speakers as he waited for the next song to come on. He recognised it within the first few notes, and belted out the lyrics the moment they began, startling Mickey. ‘She got a body like an hourglass, but I can give it to you all the time!’

‘No, no. Absolutely not.’

‘She got a booty like a Cadillac, but I can send you into overdrive!’

‘Ian, stop.’

‘Nope!’

‘If you’re not careful, you’ll be dancing too enthusiastically to hear the oven go off.’

‘Fuck it!’

‘You said I could eat it!’

‘See, anybody could be bad to you, you need a good girl to blow your mind!’ Ian replied loudly, gyrating his hips suggestively at Mickey and winking.

Mickey shook his head. ‘Nope. I’m sitting down. Fuck you.’

‘You love it.’

‘I hate dancing more than I hate babies.’

Ian tutted. ‘Children are great!’

‘Negative,’ Mickey said strongly. ‘How could you like a blob of goop that shits twenty four seven?’

‘She mighta let you hold her hand in school, but Imma show you how to graduate!’

‘God, I hate you.’

‘Show me what your mama gave!’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘You’ve got a very big _shh_.’

‘Mouth, but don’t say a thing,’ Ian grinned. ‘Knew you knew this song!’

‘I will destroy you if you mention this to anyone.’

‘Got it,’ Ian nodded. ‘Dance now?’

‘Still a nope.’

‘Fine,’ Ian huffed, finally giving up on making Mickey dance, and twirling around the room by himself for the remainder of the song. As that one was in the final stages, he went quickly to the kitchen to check the timer on the oven, and saw he had one last chance to get Mickey moving. As he re-entered the living room, he abruptly changed his mind upon hearing what song had been picked up on shuffle. ‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured, smiling happily and moving with the beat, singing quietly at Mickey as the lyrics started.

_I know you’ve suffered, but I don’t want you to hide. It’s cold and loveless, I won’t let you be denied._

‘What the fuck are you doing now?’ Mickey groaned, as Ian sauntered over to him.

‘Soothing,’ Ian crooned, straddling Mickey’s waist. ‘I’ll make you feel pure.’

‘Oh, Jesus.’

‘Trust me,’ Ian continued, starting to grind lightly against him. ‘You can be sure.’

‘Ian, what –’

Ian leaned close to Mickey’s ear and whispered hotly against his skin, ‘I want to reconcile the violence in your heart. I want to recognise your beauty is not just a mask.’

‘Ian,’ Mickey said, his voice cracking somewhere in the middle.

‘I want to exorcise the demons from your past,’ Ian continued, trailing his hands down Mickey’s chest. ‘I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.’

‘Jesus,’ Mickey said quietly, putting his hands on Ian’s hips, and tipping his head against the back of the couch. ‘You’re gonna be the death of me.’

Ian grinned and dipped his head to kiss below Mickey’s jaw as the song continued.

_You trick your lovers that you’re wicked and divine. You may be a sinner but your innocence is mine._

‘Please me, show me how it’s done,’ Mickey sighed quietly. ‘Tease me, you are the one.’

Ian’s head shot back up as Mickey completed the second verse. ‘Mick?’

‘What?’ Mickey murmured, unaware that all movement by Ian had ceased.

‘I...’ Ian bit his lip, deciding that Mickey hadn’t meant anything by that than to sing along. ‘Nothing.’

‘Mmkay.’

Ian picked up his grinding, feeling Mickey hardening beneath him. _I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart._ He smiled to himself as Mickey ran his fingers up and down his back, dipping slightly under his waistband.

‘Please me, show me how it’s done,’ Mickey raised his head and looked Ian directly in the eyes as he sang, ‘Trust me, you are the one.’

 _Okay, no way to misinterpret_ that. ‘Are you actually saying that?’

‘Saying what?’

‘I’m the one, or whatever.’

Mickey shrugged to deflect the question. ‘We should check the gingerbread,’ he said, slipping off the couch and going to the kitchen. _That was a close call._

Ian huffed and went off after him, deciding that he probably shouldn’t push it right now. ‘How is it?’ he asked, seeing Mickey standing with the tray at the bench.

‘Dunno. Looks fine.’

‘Probably _is_ fine, then,’ Ian murmured, coming up behind Mickey and wrapping his arms around his waist. ‘Wanna leave it to cool for a while?’

‘And do what?’

‘Well, my bedroom is always a source of entertainment.’

Mickey turned to face Ian, one eyebrow raised. ‘I haven’t had food yet today, you know.’

Ian smiled. ‘Sorry. Help yourself to whatever’s around.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey replied. ‘What are you gonna do?’

‘Super secret Valentine’s stuff.’

‘Right,’ Mickey nodded. ‘That’s code for something kinky, isn’t it?’

Ian laughed. ‘You'll have to wait and see.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey found some leftover mac ‘n’ cheese in Ian’s fridge and hummed happily to himself as he put it in the microwave to heat up. Ian made the best mac ‘n’ cheese from scratch that Mickey had ever tasted in his life. Probably because it was the _only_ mac ‘n’ cheese he’d ever had that wasn’t out of a box, so it automatically went to the top spot.

As the bowl went around in the microwave, he wondered idly what Ian’s secret Valentine’s stuff was. If it was in the bedroom, it almost definitely involved butt stuff, and God knows how much Mickey loved butt stuff.

The microwave dinged to signal it was done with the pasta, and Mickey took the hot bowl out. He quickly scarfed down the food, burning his throat, and dumped the bowl in the dishwasher, before going off to find Ian.

Ian’s bedroom door was shut, and he figured that would be a good place to start, so he swung open the door to see the other man carefully arranging rose petals on the bed in the shape of a heart. ‘That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen,’ he commented.

Ian stood sharply and held the box of remaining petals behind his back, like that would hide what was already on the bed. ‘Mickey!’

‘That’s my name.’

‘You’re not supposed to be in here,’ Ian said quickly. ‘It’ll ruin the surprise.’

‘It’s not a surprise anymore, because I’m looking right at it.’

Ian blinked. ‘Fuck.’

‘Why are you making a heart?’ Mickey asked, deciding he wasn’t going to leave the room.

‘It’s Valentine’s. Duh,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes.

‘Wow, that’s a fucking original idea.’

‘If you don’t like it, I can put them all back in the box,’ Ian sniffed.

Mickey sensed he may have just hurt Ian’s feelings, so he put out a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t.’

‘Why not.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Might be kinda cool to fuck on a bed of rose petals, right?’

Ian grinned. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘A heart might be a bit inconvenient, though.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian sighed. ‘I suppose. Help me spread ‘em out.’

‘What, the petals, or my legs?’

‘I’m good with either, though maybe the petals first.’

‘A’ight,’ Mickey nodded, moving the petals from their carefully arranged heart and around on the rest of the bed. ‘Now legs?’

‘Now legs,’ Ian agreed. ‘But first...’

Mickey groaned and sat on the bed, flopping onto his back. ‘What the fuck now?’

‘I got you a present!’

‘Is it something I put up my ass?’ Mickey guessed.

‘Yup!’

‘Are we about to use it?’

‘Nope.’

Mickey sat up on his elbows. ‘What is it?’

‘You have to unwrap it!’ Ian said, throwing a box to him. ‘I thought it would be handy for once I’m... y’know. Away.’

Mickey sighed. ‘Right.’

‘Just unwrap it, okay?’

‘Fine,’ Mickey said, starting to tear off the paper. ‘I didn’t get you anything.’

‘I know.  It’s okay.’

Mickey inspected the box and burst out laughing. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yup,’ Ian grinned. ‘Dildo with the closest measurements to me. It’ll be like I’m there, but not there.’

‘You’re a fucking idiot.’

‘I prefer “romantic”.’

‘Of course, you do.’

Ian took the box back and put it on top of his set of drawers. ‘Now, down to the leg spreading..?’

‘Get over here, then,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Why do I put up with you?’

‘Because I’m awesome.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, pulling Ian down to kiss him deeply. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do.’

‘Maybe one day I will, too.’

‘Will that day be today?’

‘Mm...’ Mickey let his eyes drift closed as he felt Ian’s hand under his shirt. ‘Wouldn’t bet on it.’

‘You’re such an asshole,’ Ian muttered, biting sharply on Mickey’s shoulder.

‘If that was meant to be punishment, it didn’t work,’ Mickey said lightly. ‘You know I like when you do that.’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian hummed, nosing behind Mickey’s ear. ‘Trying to win you over.’

Mickey let out a deep sigh. ‘Won me over long ago,’ he murmured.

‘So you _do_ love me?’

‘Don’t push it, gingerbread,’ Mickey warned. ‘You’re already getting points here by me agreeing you’re kinda awesome.’

‘So I _am_ awesome.’

‘Only a little bit.’

‘I’ll take what I can get.’

 

* * *

 

‘You know what?’

‘What?’

Ian flopped his head to the side to smile at Mickey. ‘I think we should just forget the rest of whatever I had planned and just stay in bed for the rest of the day. Happy Valentine’s to us.’

‘We could do that,’ Mickey agreed.

‘We could.’

‘I’m sensing there’s a “but” coming.’

‘Yeah, yours,’ Ian laughed. ‘Seriously, we could, but we haven’t done the romantic stuff yet.’

Mickey scrunched his face. ‘And obviously it would be a tragedy if we skipped that.’

‘It would, kinda, yeah.’

‘What was this romantic stuff you had planned?’

‘That would ruin the surprise.’

‘I hate surprises.’

Ian huffed loudly. ‘Well, it involved stargazing.’

Mickey groaned. ‘That’s so gay.’

‘Says the guy who had a dick up his ass a few minutes ago,’ Ian said, hitting Mickey lightly.

‘Whatever, man,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘You know it’s fucking cold out, right? And raining?’

‘I prepared for that.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘That’s the surprise,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Go have a shower or something, and I’ll go organise everything, okay?’

‘A’ight, sure,’ Mickey said, pulling on a pair of pants from beside the bed. ‘Don’t steal my fucking clothes again.’

‘There’s no one here but us,’ Ian said slowly. ‘Why should it matter?’

‘Don’t want your dog to see my dick.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Does it sound like I’m joking?’

‘He’s a dog, Mick. What’s he gonna do? Judge you?’ Ian asked in amusement.

‘Jesus, Gallagher. I just don’t want to be on that level with your dog. It takes us from friends to like… friends that show each other their dicks.’

Ian laughed. ‘You’re such an idiot.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey said, flipping him off as he went to the shower.

Ian shook his head as Mickey left, and pulled on his boxers. It occurred to him how great it was to have heating that worked, and was struck briefly by a wave of nostalgia, as he remembered how often the Gallagher house had ended up with the heating cut off.

As he made his way to the living room, Ian stopped through the kitchen to get a treat for Radar, and tossed it to the dog as he lay on his bed.

Ian heard the water from the bathroom start up, so he got to work. He pushed aside the couch and table to clear the middle of the living room. He shut all the curtains, got his laptop and the projector he had borrowed from a friend’s home cinema (because Ian now knew people with _home cinemas_ ), and hooked them up to point up at the ceiling. While that was organising itself to work, Ian got a spare blanket out of the hall cupboard and spread it out on the floor.

The water in the bathroom shut off, so Ian quickly shut the door between the hall and living room and went back to his bedroom, putting on the coffee machine as he breezed past. He could hear Mickey still fucking around in the bathroom as he walked to his bedroom (it sounded like he hit himself on something, because Ian heard muffled cursing) and he quickly threw on some clothes – actual pants and a shirt, instead of just his boxers.

Before Mickey could appear and ask what was going on, Ian zipped into the kitchen and poured coffee into two mugs and took them into the living room. He went back into the hall and was just in time to catch Mickey coming out of his bedroom.

‘Hey!’ Ian smiled.

‘Hi…’ Mickey said slowly. ‘Whatcha doin’?’

‘Waiting for you,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Now come with me.’

‘Okay…’ Mickey said, taking Ian’s outstretched hand. ‘What are we doing?’

‘Stargazing indoors,’ Ian replied, pulling Mickey through the kitchen and to the living room. He gestured around the room and up to the ceiling. ‘Picnic blanket, coffee, and stars!’

Mickey smiled in amusement. ‘Stargazing, huh.’

‘Yup.’

‘That’s like… really gay.’

‘You already said that.’

‘Yup, well, it’s still true.’

Ian rolled his eyes and tugged Mickey to the floor. He plopped down on the blanket and stared up at his ceiling. It wasn’t quite as good as the real thing, but it would do. ‘Sit your ass down, Milkovich. We’re gonna look at the Goddamn stars.’

Mickey huffed and joined Ian on the floor. ‘So,’ he asked. ‘What the fuck are we supposed to do now?’

‘Um… Not sure, actually.’

‘Great, okay.’

Ian thought he would try for some romance, and linked his fingers casually through Mickey’s as they both stared up at his ceiling. ‘Those ones,’ he said quietly, ‘look like a circle.’

‘Great observation, Sherlock,’ Mickey noted. He pointed to a line of three stars and said, ‘That’s Orion’s belt.’

‘Didn’t know you knew anything about astronomy.’

Mickey shrugged awkwardly. ‘Mythology, man.’

‘That’s right. You’re the mythology dude,’ Ian teased. ‘Tell me about it.’

‘The myth itself is kind of murky, because there are different retellings of it,’ Mickey wiggled around and got comfortable. ‘But basically, in Greek mythology, Orion was a hunter. He fell in love with the daughter of the King of Chios, and cleared the island of wild beasts because he loved her, or something. The king… the fuck was his name? Oe-something.’

‘Oedipus?’ Ian suggested.

‘Um. No. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?’

Ian grinned. ‘Motherfucker.’

‘Me?’

‘No, Oedipus. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?’ Ian mocked.

Mickey flung his arm out and whacked Ian on the chest. ‘Fuck off. You’re ruining my story, you Oedipus.’

‘Nice,’ Ian laughed, holding his hand out to high five Mickey.

‘Thanks,’ Mickey grinned. ‘Anyway, the king. Oenopenis?’

‘You’re just fixated on dicks, aren’t you?’

‘Fuck off. Oenopion? Yeah. That’s it. Oenopion, the king, he said that Orion could marry his daughter – sometimes she’s called Aero, sometimes she’s called Merope – but Orion kept procrastinating it like a fucking idiot. One day, he got wasted and insulted Merope, because he _was_ a fucking idiot, apparently, and that really fucked off Oenopion, so he asked Dionysus to punish him.’

‘Dionysus is who, exactly?’

‘Bacchus in Roman mythology?’

‘Nope.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mickey muttered. ‘He’s the God of wine, pretty much. Hangs out with nymphs and satyrs. Party dude.’

‘Ah. Carry on. Dionysus punished Orion?’

‘Yeah. Made him unconscious and Oenopion blinded him,’ Mickey said. ‘Insert here a fuckload of travelling, because Orion was told to regain his sight, he needed to let rays of the rising sun hit his eyes or some shit. So he did that. Went back to get revenge on Oenopion, because he’d probably have been pretty fucking pissed to wake up blinded.’

‘Like that one eyed dude in the Odyssey,’ Ian nodded. ‘Polyphemus, right?’

‘Yeah. But to be fair, he did want to eat everyone.’

‘He only had one eye though! Blinding him was a bit rough.’

Mickey turned to Ian and gave him a strange look. ‘Are you saying it’s less rough to blind a dude with two eyes.’

‘Well… I suppose, in a way.’

‘Two eyes requires more effort.’

Ian waved his hand dismissively in front of Mickey’s face. ‘Whatever. Carry on.’

‘Right. So Orion went back to Chios, and Oenopion –’

‘Sorry, I can’t stop thinking of him as “Eh, no penis” in my head. Can we call him that from now on?’

‘No,’ Mickey said, ignoring the interruption and continuing his story. ‘Oenopion wasn’t on Chios, so Orion was like “Fuck”, and went on to Crete. Somehow became the huntsman of Artemis? And she ended up killing him.’

‘Now _that_ is rough.’

‘Depends what version of his death you go with, but some say Artemis was tricked into killing him by her brother, Apollo, because Orion had pissed him off somehow.’ Mickey sighed and ran his fingers through his hair absently. ‘Some say Artemis was jealous that the Goddess of Dawn – sometimes called Aurora – loved him, so she killed him in a sort of “If I can’t have him, no one can!” kind of thing. Either way, he died, and was put into the stars as a constellation.’

‘The belt?’

‘Huh?’

‘Why’s the constellation called Orion’s belt, then?’

‘Oh. He’s up there with a club, a lion skin, a sword, and the belt,’ Mickey explained. ‘Orion’s belt.’

Ian smiled as Mickey finished up his story. ‘You know what?’

‘What.’

‘That was the weirdest retelling of a myth I have ever heard, but you sounded so passionate… It was incredible.’

Mickey turned his head to grin at Ian. ‘Mythology, man. I love it.’

‘Well, I love you.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘I know.’

‘Just thought I’d mention because it’s Valentine’s.’

‘Yup.’

‘So?’ Ian prompted.

‘So, what?’

‘Gonna leave me hanging?’

Mickey laughed. ‘Yup,’ he said, leaning over to kiss Ian softly. ‘Dork.’

Ian made a noise of faux horror and gave Mickey a scandalised look. ‘I am outraged.’

‘I don’t fuckin’ doubt it,’ Mickey waggled his eyebrows at Ian. ‘Whatcha gon’ do ‘bout it?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘I would. That’s why I’m asking.’

‘Smartass.’

‘I think my head is smarter. Only marginally, though.’

‘I would agree.’

‘Rude.’

Ian grinned and flopped back down next to Mickey, looking up at their little galaxy again. He reached his hand out to the side, and felt around for his mug. When he found it, he brought the cup his lips and downed some of the drink. He grimaced and put it back. ‘Coffee is cold.’

‘What coffee?’ Mickey asked, looking around for it like the caffeine addict he was.

‘The coffee I made while you were in the shower.’

Mickey scoffed. ‘No wonder it’s fucking cold. Shoulda used thermos. Would’ve added to the outdoor experience.’

‘Fuck,’ Ian muttered. ‘That’s genius.’

‘Uh huh. You and Mandy don’t give me enough credit.’

‘I give you plenty of credit.’

‘Not really,’ Mickey paused. ‘Seriously though. What you gonna do ‘bout me leaving you hanging?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Still got the whole night. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okey dokey songs i mentioned in here (in order, obvs): 'shut up and dance' by walk the moon, 'bang bang' by jessie j et al. and 'undisclosed desires' by muse.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	14. Imma Play Scrabble With You So Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, heads up: i don't speak russian or ukrainian, so if any translations are wrong please let me know so i can change it c: (google translated the shit outta everything, so don't blame me omg.) (also translations are all at the end so dw.)

As the day of Svetlana’s wedding to Flynn loomed on the horizon, Mickey was getting increasingly antsy. It wasn’t because Ian was leaving ten days later, though that was definitely part of it, it was more than Mickey had to paint a canvas almost bigger than he was, as well as create place cards and invitations for the damn thing.

It felt like all he did was eat, sleep, fix cars, wait on shitty customers, and paint. Well, he spent more time painting than anything. It got to the point where Ian came over sometime past one a.m., and found Mickey in the studio, covered in gold acrylic, and listening to a playlist Ian had made him.

‘Mickey?’ Ian asked, poking his head in the door.

Mickey waved his paintbrush vaguely in Ian’s direction in greeting. ‘Hey.’

‘How much have you slept recently?’

‘Dunno,’ Mickey replied, swirling his brush over the canvas.

‘Living on caffeine and three hours a night?’

‘Probably.’

Ian frowned as the song finished, then immediately restarted. ‘Are you listening to this song on repeat?’

‘Probably.’

‘Can you say anything other than “probably”, or is that all your mouth can produce due to lack of sleep?’

‘Probably.’

‘Jesus,’ Ian sighed and turned the music abruptly off. ‘Okay. You’re going to sleep.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Mickey said, wiping his hand on his shirt and pressing play on his iPod again. ‘It’s Tuesday, I don’t have work.’

‘I’m surprised you know what day it is.’

‘’Course I do. I haven’t left civilisation.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘How much do you have left to do?’

Mickey jerked his head to the canvas. ‘C’mere.’

Ian stepped into the room and joined Mickey in front of his painting. ‘It looks fine to me.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ Mickey said, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Gotta finish off that bit, add some black, and do that section up there.’

‘Can you do it tomorrow? I wanna sleep.’

‘It’s only gonna take me an hour or two,’ Mickey said, glancing at Ian as he squirted more paint onto the palette beside him. ‘Why’d you come here if you wanna sleep? You got a bed at your apartment.’

‘Yeah, I know. Couldn’t sleep, so I came here because I always sleep better when I’m with you.’

‘London’s gonna be a fuckin’ ball, then, huh?’

‘Look at the little smartass, bringing out the reverse psychology,’ Ian shook his head and yawned. ‘I’ll be in bed, okay?’

‘Sure thing, gingerbread.’

‘Have a shower before you join me, though. Paint fumes never did anything for me.’

‘A’ight.’

Ian sighed and went to the bedroom, shuffling his way under Mickey’s duvet and whipping his phone out to play 2048, while keeping an eye on the time and seeing how long it would take Mickey to come to bed.

He waited until it was nearing four a.m., before he gave up on waiting for Mickey and turned over to sleep. Ian was pretty glad that he had the rest of the day off, too, because otherwise he would’ve been a dead man walking.

 

* * *

 

When Ian woke up, he had every intention of yelling at Mickey for taking so long to get to bed – fuck him if he had only just gone to bed, he said “an hour or two”, not “an hour or five”. But when it all came down to it, he couldn’t bring himself to wake up Mickey.

He had missed a bit of paint on his temple, and looked ridiculously content, so Ian just brushed the hair out of Mickey’s eyes and got up, leaving him to sleep.

Ian’s first port of call was the bathroom, then the bag of crap he had brought with him so he could take his meds. Even though Ian knew he shouldn’t, the curiosity got the better of him, and he tiptoed into Mickey’s studio to see the – hopefully finished – painting.

‘Wow,’ Ian whispered to himself, running his eyes over the completed canvas. Mickey had been right when he said that the painting wasn’t finished, and Ian now saw why.

Yesterday the painting seemed like random splodges – maybe Mickey’s first dive into abstract work? – but now, with the added black lines, he had given definition to the shapes and clearly created the outlines of shadow profiles of both Svetlana and Flynn, filled with red and gold swirls that filled the rest of the canvas. It would fit the colour scheme Lana had finally settled on perfectly.

Ian was still admiring the fruits of Mickey’s labouring, when the man himself cleared his throat from the doorway. ‘What you think?’ Mickey asked, nodding at the painting.

Ian grinned broadly as he turned to face his boyfriend. ‘It’s incredible.’

‘You think?’

‘Yeah, I mean…’ Ian trailed off and gestured at the canvas. ‘Last night it looked like sploops and now it makes sense.’

‘Sploops?’ Mickey asked in amusement.

‘Was that all you got from what I just said?’

‘Mhmm. Repeat without the word “sploops”.’

‘It makes sense,’ Ian said with a roll of his eyes. ‘You had all the shapes and everything in the red and gold, and the black to define the profiles… It’s stunning, Mick.’

Mickey smiled and looked down, kicking at the wall beside him. ‘Thanks.’

‘When we get married, I want us to have one of these,’ Ian said absently. ‘Breakfast?’ he asked, looking across to his boyfriend. He found Mickey was pale faced and silent, which was unusual, because he was never like that at the prospect of food. ‘Mickey?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Breakfast?’

‘You said “when we get married”,’ Mickey frowned. ‘What makes you think we’re getting married?’

‘Just a hope, babe,’ Ian shrugged.

‘A hope?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I’d _love_ to marry you. I hope I get to, one day.’

Mickey thumbed at his lip and glanced up at him. ‘Don’t.’

Ian’s eyebrows shot towards his hair. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Hope.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’ll only end up disappointed.’

‘Mickey,’ Ian’s expression softened as he stepped towards him, and rested his hands on Mickey’s hips, rubbing little circles on the skin under his t-shirt. ‘We don’t need to get married. It’s not a deal breaker for me.’

‘Funny, ‘cause it strikes me as one for you,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘It’s not,’ Ian insisted. ‘I’m happy just having you.’

‘For how long?’

‘Until you get sick of me, and even then,’ Ian shrugged. ‘You’re enough.’

‘Enough?’ Mickey scoffed. ‘Wow, thanks.’

‘No, I mean… You. Without a marriage license, or my ring on your finger – _you_ are enough. Just you.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘You’re so gay.’

Ian grinned. ‘You know that’s not even an insult, right. You’re just stating a fact.’

‘I know. I’m emphasizing it,’ Mickey said, giving Ian a small smile. ‘Now, make me breakfast, wench.’

‘ _Again_ with the wench thing?!’

 

* * *

 

_mickey_

_mandy_

_lana wants u to wear a suit_

_why_

_it’s her wedding_

_so? i'm not getting married_

_yeah but she wants you to wear a fucking suit_

_why_

_jfc come to my apartment. bring ur bf._

_always do._

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, Mickey!’ Mandy said, throwing open her front door. ‘Hi, Ian.’

‘Hey, Mands,’ Ian smiled, leading Mickey past her into the apartment. ‘Why am I here?’

‘You’ll see,’ Mandy said. ‘Lana! They’re here!’

‘Good,’ Svetlana called, appearing from down the hallway, Flynn close on her heels. ‘Sit, both of you. Drink?’

‘Just water would be great,’ Ian replied. ‘Same for him.’

Svetlana nodded and came back a few moments later, glasses in hand. She set them down on the table in front of the couch, and looked anxiously at Flynn. He nodded encouragingly, and she sat on the armchair beside the couch. ‘You’re probably wondering why you’re here.’

‘ _I_ am,’ Ian muttered.

‘Quiet, orange boy,’ Svetlana said, waving her hand at Ian. ‘We’ll get to you.’

‘Then why the fuck am _I_ here?’ Mickey asked. ‘Something wrong with the invites or something?’

‘The invites are great,’ Flynn interrupted, giving Mickey two thumbs up. He twisted his hair up into a small bun and slipped his glasses on as he sat at his desk. ‘Lana wants to ask you something.’

‘Oh God,’ Mickey groaned. ‘Not another canvas or anything, right? I just finished the first one.’

‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Svetlana said with a smile. She wouldn’t see it until the reception, when she walked in with Flynn, and had been casually trying to pry information out of everyone about what it looked like. ‘I want to ask you something else.’

‘Okay…’

Svetlana coughed and crossed her legs. ‘I would like you to give me away.’

Mickey’s eyes widened and he choked on his water. ‘I beg your fuckin’ pardon?’

‘Walk me down the aisle,’ Svetlana said slowly. ‘I want you to.’

‘Don’t you have family or some shit?’

‘My father is dead, my mother is dead, I have no brothers or sisters. None of my family will be coming,’ Svetlana said with a shrug. ‘Mandy is like sister to me, so you are like brother.’

Mickey spun to stare accusingly at Flynn. ‘Is she fucking with me?’

‘Nope,’ Flynn replied, not taking his eyes off his screen. ‘You’re a first option and last resort. She doesn’t want to walk down by herself.’

‘I cannot _walk down by myself_ ,’ Svetlana mocked. ‘It is not right.’

‘You’ve mentioned,’ Mandy said. ‘About fifty thousand times.’

Svetlana rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Mickey. ‘So?’

Mickey bit his lip and glanced at Ian, who gave him a small nod. ‘Yeah, alright,’ Mickey said. ‘What-the-fuck-ever.’

‘Good!’ Svetlana grinned. ‘You need a suit.’

‘I have a suit.’

‘No, you don’t?’ Ian said slowly. ‘Are you hiding a suit from me? We gotta change that.’

‘He doesn’t own a suit,’ Mandy said, sighing loudly.

‘And I can’t fuckin afford one, either!’

‘It’s sorted,’ Flynn said. ‘I’ll take you to the tailor sometime in the next few days and get one made.’

‘Ooh, a _tailored_ suit,’ Ian said, waggling his eyebrows at Mickey. ‘I like the sound of that.’

‘Of course you do, you perv,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Okay, whatever.’

‘What am I doing here, though?’ Ian asked.

‘You have to make sure he wears it to wedding,’ Svetlana shrugged.

‘Yeah, he’ll probably try to lure you into a false sense of security by saying he will, but then he won’t,’ Mandy explained.

‘So… I’m suit patrol?’ Ian nodded. ‘Fine with me.’

‘Good. You can leave now,’ Svetlana said, standing and going to the door. ‘We have much to do.’

‘You’re kicking us out? Mickey asked. ‘Fuckin’ rude.’

‘Unless you want to help make wedding favours, you leave.’

‘Jesus,’ Mickey muttered. ‘A’ight. Bye.’

‘Bye, Mick!’ Mandy grinned. ‘Have fun on suit patrol, Ian!’

‘I’ll try, Mands, thanks,’ Ian said, smiling sarcastically at her.

‘I’ll text you about the tailor,’ Flynn said, saluting the pair as they left the apartment. ‘And don’t kick up a fuss, okay? I’ll get my Russian on to you.’

‘ _God_ , okay!’ Mickey cried in exasperation, striding from the apartment. ‘Thanks for the fucking ambush, Mandy!’

‘You’re welcome!’

 

* * *

 

‘I love that cut on you,’ Ian said, nodding approvingly from the couch at the tailors.

‘Fuck off, man,’ Mickey muttered, twisting around and grimacing at himself in the mirror.

‘Hey, look here?’ Ian asked.

Mickey faced his boyfriend and heard the little _click!_ of Ian’s phone taking a photo. ‘You fucker.’

Ian grinned. ‘What do you think, Flynn?’

The other man on the couch looked up from his phone and shrugged. ‘Needs to have a few adjustments made. The pants are too long.’

‘Yeah, Mickey has abnormally short legs,’ Ian nodded.

‘Fuck you,’ Mickey said, flipping Ian off, and receiving a reproaching _tut_ from the tailor for moving his arm.

‘Don’t worry. I like your legs,’ Ian smiled.

‘That was a horrible pick up line,’ Flynn said absently.

‘He seems to be attracted to horrible pick up lines.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Mickey argued. ‘When can I get outta this fuckin’ thing? Pins stabbing me fuckin’ everywhere.’

‘You can take it off now,’ the tailor said. ‘Just be careful.’

‘That was kinda my plan of attack,’ Mickey muttered, stepping off the platform and carefully taking off the suit. He reappeared from the changing room and kicked Ian in the leg. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Okay,’ Ian said, standing up beside Mickey. ‘You got it under control from here?’ he asked Flynn.

Flynn nodded and waved his hand at the door. ‘Go… do whatever the hell you gotta do. I’ll sort this.’

‘Text me if he needs to come in for another fitting,’ Ian said, saluting Flynn from the door. ‘I’ll make sure he gets here.’

Flynn grinned. ‘Don’t feel pressured to share details of how you intend to do that.’

Ian made a circle with a thumb and index finger and moved his hand towards where he had stuck his tongue out, before Mickey saw what he was doing and slapped his hand away, shoving Ian out the door, while Flynn cackled at Ian portraying faux-innocence, and Mickey blushing furiously.

‘You’re a fucking asshole,’ Mickey said through gritted teeth, as they went down the sidewalk towards where Ian had parked his car.

Ian just shrugged and held up the circle of his fingers again. ‘Am I, though?’

‘Yes, you are.’

Ian grinned and unlocked his car. ‘If you say so –’

‘Which I do,’ Mickey interrupted, climbing into the passenger seat.

‘Okay, fine. I need your help with a couple of things.’

‘Jesus, what.’

‘My boss told me if I want my stuff to be in London before I am, then I have to organise it into boxes and have it ready to send on Monday.’

Mickey frowned as Ian started his car and began moving out towards his apartment. ‘Haven’t you started packing yet?’

‘Well… No.’

‘It’s Saturday afternoon.’

‘I know. I’ve been procrastinating.’

‘You don’t fuckin’ say, Gallagher?’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘It’s gonna take you like nine years to pack one damn box.’

‘I don’t have nine years. I leave in…’ Ian paused and counted silently in his head.

‘Twenty four days,’ Mickey said. ‘You leave ten days after Flynn and Lana get married, and that’s two weeks.’

‘Aren’t you just the tiniest little math whizz?’

‘Fuck off.’

Ian was quiet for a few minutes, before he said softly, ‘I guess I should say sorry.’

‘The fuck for?’

‘I don’t know… Leaving, I guess.’

‘Here’s a fun idea,’ Mickey suggested. ‘Don’t talk about it.’

‘Mickey –’

‘Ian, I swear to God.’

Ian searched for something he could say to improve the situation. ‘We’ll be –’

Mickey cut him off with a wave of his hand, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. ‘You say “fine” or anything else that _implies_ “fine” and I will punch you so fucking hard in the dick, you’ll be pissing out your ass.’

Ian sighed and stared straight ahead at the traffic. ‘I don’t know how many times I have to say sorry.’

‘You fucking don’t,’ Mickey said, shaking his head in frustration. ‘But the fact that you are means something it probably shouldn’t.’

‘Like what? Enlighten me.’

‘If you’re apologising to me for living your Goddamn life, then maybe you don’t even fucking want to go.’

‘I think you’re reading too far into this.’

‘Yeah, and I think you’re being a fucking asshole.’

‘I guess this is the “I don’t want you to go” part of you coming out in full power, huh?’ Ian asked.

‘We’re not talking about this, Gallagher,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘We’re gonna have to talk at some point, Mick. It’s not like you’re just going to press a giant, cosmic _pause_ button and stay in a freeze frame for seven months while I’m gone.’

‘Think I don’t know that?’ Mickey huffed. ‘Just… let me deal with me before I deal with you, a’ight?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Ian ran his hand through his hair and glanced sideways at Mickey as they approached the entrance to his building’s underground parking. ‘Just don’t take too long. We’ve only got… however many days left.’

‘Twenty four.’

‘Twenty four days.’

 

* * *

 

If Mickey made a list of places he wanted to be at eight p.m. on a Saturday night, _“sitting on my boyfriend’s bedroom floor, surrounded by twelve different piles of clothing and three boxes, as said boyfriend prepares to move halfway across the world_ ” would not be top of the list. It would be nowhere _near_ the list, in fact. It would be burned and sprinkled across the top of the Marianas Trench, so all the little fragments could disintegrate and sink to the bottom and merge with the sand.

Okay, that might’ve been a slight exaggeration, seeing as that was the feeling he reserved for any possibility of being in prison with his father and no backup, but it was definitely pretty fucking close to that.

Mickey had never really loved anyone, maybe only Mandy and his mother, but he definitely didn’t love them the way he loved Ian. Not that the redhead would ever find out at _this_ rate. It was just Mickey’s fucking luck, that as soon as something amazing dropped into his life – regardless of whether that thing was six foot tall, had a mop of fire coloured hair, and lean muscles, or not – it was always yanked right the fuck out again.

So here he was. Helping his boyfriend prepare to fuck off to London.

‘Take this one or leave it here?’ Ian asked, holding up a black V-neck sweater.

Mickey bit his lip. He loved that on Ian. ‘Leave it.’

‘Leave it? You love me in this.’

_Damn Ian and his deductive skills._ ‘Yeah, that’s why you’re gonna leave it. Someone else might like it on you as much as I do.’

Ian rolled his eyes, but put it back in his closet and moved on to the next item. ‘These jeans?’

‘Leave ‘em.’ _Your ass looks great in those._

‘I love these jeans!’ Ian protested.

‘Yeah, and they have rips in them. You’ll catch fuckin’ pneumonia and die.’

‘No, I won’t.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘You won’t miss them for a few months, will you?’

Ian looked wistfully at the jeans in his hands. ‘You’re right. Just promise you’ll send them to me if I miss them too much.’

‘You pay shipping and we’ll see.’

Ian grinned and took out a thin, grey hoodie. ‘Take or leave?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Your choice.’

Ian bit his lip and frowned at the garment. ‘Know what?’ he tossed the hoodie to Mickey. ‘You have it. Until I get back.’

‘Why?’

‘You wear it more than I do.’

‘True.’ Mickey put the hoodie in his lap, creating a thirteenth pile of stuff. The hoodie was soft, light enough to sleep in, and the sleeves went way down past his hands, but it always seemed to smell like Ian, no matter how much Mickey wore it. Might come in handy once Ian was gone.

 

* * *

 

‘If I have to wear a fucking suit, I should at least be able to do whatever I want with my fucking facial hair,’ Mickey said, frowning at himself in the mirror.

‘Well, either you keep the stubble, or Svetlana shoves a stiletto up your ass.’

‘Probably wouldn’t feel it,’ Mickey said lightly, twisting his head in the light.

‘You would if it was the entire shoe going up sideways,’ Ian shrugged.

‘I’m up for trying new things.’

‘A shoe?’

‘Yup.’

‘No.’ Ian joined Mickey at the mirror and rubbed his hand on his jaw. ‘Hmm. I could totally rock a bit of scruff for the wedding, though.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘Ian, no. If I don’t get a beard, you don’t get a beard.’

‘Mickey, _yes_. I want a beard.’

‘Be fucking supportive, you dick,’ Mickey said, punching Ian in the arm. ‘No beards.’

‘Why do you even want a beard?’ Ian asked, rubbing his upper arm.

‘It just feels right.’

‘You’re such a loser.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ay, Gallagher!’ Mickey called from his bedroom, looking in anger at the tie in his hand. ‘Help me out here?’

Ian came bustling in from the bathroom, and looked at the tie. ‘Need me to tie the tie?’

‘I don’t know how to do a normal fuckin’ knot, and Flynn just sent me a text saying _“reminder: tie is a trinity knot!”_ What the fuck does that even mean?’

‘A trinity?’ Ian nodded. ‘Okay, c’mere.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and gave Ian the gold silk tie. ‘Fuckin’ ties.’

Ian smirked as he folded and twisted and did what the fuck else to the tie, and gave a satisfied nod when it was done. ‘Go check that looks fine.’

‘Better than what I could do, so I don’t care,’ Mickey said, shrugging on his suit jacket. ‘Suits are stupid.’

‘You look amazing,’ Ian smiled. ‘Who cares if they’re stupid?’

Mickey pulled on his sleeves and looked in the full length mirror Ian and put on the back of his bedroom door. ‘Look like I’m going to a funeral.’

‘Why? Because the suit is all black?’

‘Mm.’

‘Makes you look badass,’ Ian replied, coming to stand behind Mickey. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s waist and kissed gently behind his ear. ‘I’m into it.’

‘You’re into everything,’ Mickey said, raising an eyebrow and twisting around in Ian’s grip.

‘Correction: I’m into you.’

The corner of Mickey’s mouth twitched into a small smile. ‘You’re okay, too, I suppose.’

‘Just okay?’

‘Dunno, man,’ Mickey turned back around to face the mirror. He tugged on his collar and grimaced. ‘Not sure about this tie, either.’

‘Trust me, you look great.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and pulled his phone from his pocket as it went off with a text. ‘Lana’s almost done. Gotta get to their hotel.’

‘Want me to come with?’

‘Nah, drop me off, and I’ll see you at the church.’

‘Kay,’ Ian dropped a kiss to Mickey’s head. ‘Let’s go.’

 

* * *

 

‘Jesus fucking Christ, I won’t be able to fit in that fucking seat,’ Mickey said, eyeing the gap on the back seat of the car Svetlana had hired to drive her to the ceremony.

‘Fucking pussy,’ Mandy muttered, pushing past her brother to clamber into the back with her friend. ‘Go in the front seat, idiot.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and got into the front beside the driver. ‘Still alive back there, Mands?’

Mandy’s hand popped up between the headrests for the two front seats and flipped off her brother, before a muffled, ‘Fuckin’ huge dress!’ came from the corner Mandy had shoved herself into.

The car started off to the church, and Mickey laughed quietly as he looked at Svetlana in the rear view mirror. ‘Lana? You good?’

Svetlana gave a resolute nod and a small smile. ‘Better than ever.’

‘Thought you were having more bridesmaids than just Mandy.’

‘Separate car.’

‘Ah,’ Mickey nodded, ditching his attempt at polite, pre-wedding conversation.

The driver hummed the entire way to the church, making Mickey want to punch him in the face, but stopped as they came to the church and pulled up behind the other car full of bridesmaids. ‘Okay, here we are. Best of luck and congratulations,’ he said.

Mickey rolled his eyes, and got out of the car to go around and open the door for Mandy. ‘How was it being suffocated?’ he asked lightly.

Mandy narrowed her eyes and scowled at him dangerously as she straightened her dress. She grabbed her phone out to use it as a mirror. ‘My hair okay?’ she asked.

Mickey sighed and put his hands on his sister’s shoulders, deciding that what the hell, might as well be nice for a second or two. ‘You look great, Mands.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Be careful not to outshine Lana.’

Mandy grinned and slapped her brother on the arm. ‘Speaking of, better help her out.’

Svetlana stuck her bouquet out the door. ‘Pull me!’

‘Shouldn’t we get the dress out first?’ Mandy asked, tugging helplessly on the skirts.

‘It will come with me!’ Svetlana said.

Mandy rolled her eyes and took the bouquet. ‘Good luck, Mickey.’

Mickey smiled witheringly at her and grabbed Svetlana’s hands. He pulled on her arms, and she almost flew out of the car. ‘Christ, you okay there?’

‘Fine!’ Svetlana said, taking the bouquet back from Mandy, as her bridesmaids fluffed her skirts and fixed her veil, and the photographer danced around them. ‘Hurry up!’

Svetlana’s bridesmaids formed themselves into a queue, and began going inside one at a time with each of Flynn’s groomsmen. ‘Mickey?’ she said quietly, once all but two had gone in.

‘Yeah?’

‘You think this is wise choice?’

Mickey hesitated, before he muttered, ‘I think you should be with the one you love for as long as you can. Marriage is one way to do that, I guess.’

Svetlana squeezed his arm and nodded. ‘You should do same with orange boy.’

‘Ian?’ Mickey asked, as Mandy started into the church.

‘You love him, he loves you. Easy decision,’ Svetlana said. ‘Let’s go.’

Mickey breathed out evenly and began walking Svetlana into the church and down the aisle. As they walked, he noticed two things. One, the music playing was fucking horrible, and two, Ian was sitting two rows from the front of the church, and his eyes were shining.

Mickey grinned at him, and Ian laughed, wiping at his eye absently. Part of Mickey felt like he was the one about to get married, and Mickey could almost believe he was. He found himself not minding the idea, especially if Ian would be the other person standing at the altar.

Mickey walked Svetlana to Flynn, kissed her cheek, nodded to Flynn and winked at them both, then joined Ian in the pew to watch the ceremony.

As he sat down, Ian grabbed his hand and leaned over. ‘You looked gorgeous, Mick.’

‘What?’

‘Walking down the aisle. The lighting, and your smile, and the suit,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Felt like I was the one getting married.’

‘Oh?’

‘Definitely enough to make me want to.’

‘Gallagher,’ Mickey murmured. ‘I already turned you down once.’

‘Second time’s a charm?’ Ian said hopefully.

Mickey smiled. ‘Not stealing Lana’s thunder, man.’

Ian grinned. ‘I’ll try tomorrow, then.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Would you say yes tomorrow?’ Ian asked quietly.

Mickey bit his lip and shook his head slowly. ‘Just be quiet and watch the wedding, okay?’

Ian said nothing, just squeezed Mickey’s hand and turned his attention to the front of the church.

The priest continued his spiel about… something, and Mickey’s attention faded out, until the priest said, ‘Svetlana and Flynn have prepared their own vows. Ladies first?’

Svetlana smiled in that way Mickey knew she did when she was trying not to cry, and began with her vows. They were apparently very heartfelt and emotional, because several people started sniffling and crying, and Mickey saw Mandy surreptitiously wipe away a tear or two.

Flynn was openly crying by the end, and there was some cooing from the gathered people as Svetlana wiped his tears away. Flynn largely said the same thing as Lana had, just rearranged and with a few different words, and at the end, he took a large breath, cleared his throat, and looked determinedly at his cue cards.

‘I know you told me to stop butchering Russian, but I hope you appreciate the effort,’ he smiled and said clearly, if not a bit louder than necessary, ‘ _Ya obeshchayu lyubit' tebya, poka okeany ne vysykhayut i svet ischezayet iz zvezd._ ’

A few people in the church huffed laughs at his pronunciation, including Svetlana, Mandy, and to Ian’s surprise – Mickey.

‘Do you speak Russian?’ Ian whispered.

Mickey shrugged. ‘It’s similar to Ukrainian. Easy to get the jist of.’

‘What did he say?’ Ian asked. ‘I feel like I’m missing out on a joke.’

‘Wasn’t a joke,’ Mickey said, smiling at the man beside him. ‘He said, “I promise to love you until the oceans dry up and the light fades from the stars.” He just… yeah, he fucked up the pronunciation.’

Ian wiped his own tears away and gave Mickey a slightly watery smile. ‘That’s beautiful though.’

‘Yeah, I suppose. If you’re into all that mooshy stuff.’

Ian gave Mickey a gentle, backhanded slap. ‘Shut up, you. You’re ruining the moment.’

‘Do you, Svetlana, take Flynn to be your lawfully wedded husband?’ the priest asked, glaring at Ian and Mickey.

‘I do,’ Svetlana said softly, sliding the ring onto Flynn’s finger.

‘And do you, Flynn, take Svetlana to be your lawfully wedded wife?’

‘Of course I do,’ Flynn said thickly. ‘A thousand times yes,’ he slipped Svetlana’s ring on, and gave a tearful laugh.

‘Then congratulations! I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss.’

Flynn started crying again as he kissed Svetlana and they wrapped their arms around each other, the entire congregation cheering and clapping as they finally broke off and went down the aisle and out the church.

Once they were out of sight, Mickey turned to Ian, an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. ‘You need a moment to gather yourself there, gingerbread? Or should I drive us to the reception while you keep on weeping?’

Ian half-heartedly flipped him off with one hand, while digging his keys out with the other. ‘You should drive.’

‘Sup, fuckers?’ Mandy said, coming up behind the pair and shoving her head between them. ‘Wanna give me a lift to the reception?’

‘Aren’t you going with Lana?’ Mickey asked.

‘And get in the middle of the lovefest? No thanks.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you can come with us.’

‘Awesome!’ Mandy grinned. She looped her arms through one each of Ian and Mickey’s, and pulled them along with her out of the church. ‘Ian, where’s your car?’

‘Uh… Just down over there.’

‘Right,’ Mandy said, striding determinedly over to where Ian had gestured.

When they reached the car, Mandy stroked the hood and sighed longingly. ‘Can I drive?’

‘Hell no, bitch,’ Mickey said, unlocking the car. ‘I’m his boyfriend, I drive.’

‘Are you really going to pull the boyfriend card?’

‘That, and the “I’ve never crashed a car” card.’

‘Okay, seriously? It was _once_.’

‘Have you two finished with your bickering?’ Ian asked, still wiping his eyes. ‘We’re gonna miss the cocktail hour.’

‘The fuck is a cocktail hour?’ Mickey asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

‘Oh, you know,’ Ian replied, clicking his seatbelt on. ‘There’s lots of little hors d’oeuvres and… well, alcohol.’

‘Lana picked a bunch of really good hors d’oeuvres,’ Mandy added, slipping into the back middle seat. ‘I wanna get one of the mini burgers, so hurry the fuck up and get there, Mick.’

‘Who the fuck died and made you queen?’ Mickey muttered, starting the car and pulling into the line of traffic.

‘No one needed to die. I was _born_ a queen.’

‘Fuck off.’

The conversation died down, until about five minutes into the drive, Ian said, ‘Hey, Mands, did you know Mickey speaks Ukrainian?’

Mickey and Mandy made eye contact through the rear view mirror, and burst into laughter. ‘ _Zvychayno_ ,’ Mandy said, rolling her eyes. ‘ _My obydva robymo._ ’

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Ian said, flicking his eyes between the two of them.

‘She _said_ ,’ Mickey sighed heavily. ‘“Of course, we both do.”’

‘Huh?’

‘ _Vy chertovsky zhartuyesh?_ ’ Mickey shook his head. ‘You, Gallagher, are an idiot.’

Ian blinked. ‘Oh! _Oh._ You’re speaking Ukrainian? Both of you?’

‘ _Da_ ,’ they said in unison.

‘Wow, okay. That’s so cool,’ Ian said. He looked at Mickey and tilted his head. ‘You never told me you could speak Ukrainian?’

‘I don’t tell you a lot of things,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Kinda thought you’d figure it out.’

‘Well, _obviously_ , I didn’t.’

‘ _Ochevydno_ ,’ Mickey said in a mocking tone, and Mandy chortled in the back seat.

‘What? What did he say?’

‘He just said “obviously”. It’s just the tone,’ Mandy snickered. ‘Picked a smart one, huh, Mick?’

‘Fuck off, he was your friend first.’

‘Uh huh, but which one of us is fucking him?’

‘Jesus, _Mandy_ ,’ Mickey said exasperatedly. ‘Will you shut up?’

‘ _Prymusʹ mene,_ ’ Mandy replied, waggling her eyebrows at him and moving sideways to avoid Mickey’s arm.

‘I fuckin’ will make you, _suka_.’

Mandy grinned. ‘ _Lyublyu tebe_.’

‘Fuck off.’

Ian, who had been apparently quite fascinated by all the new words flying around, cleared his throat loudly before addressing the other two people in his car. ‘Okay, not that I’m not enjoying this, because God knows I am, but can we all speak in the same language?’

‘Sure,’ Mickey said, turning into the carpark for the reception venue. ‘You speak Ukrainian?’

Ian set his jaw and looked silently out the window.

‘Aw, Mick. You hurt his feelings!’ Mandy said, patting Ian on the shoulder.

‘You started it.’

‘Did not.’

‘Did too, and you fuckin’ know it,’ Mickey said, pulling into a parking spot. ‘Get the fuck out, I gotta talk to Gallagher.’

Mandy rolled her eyes and opened her door. ‘Fine, but hurry up. I’m not saving any tiny burgers for you!’

Mickey waited for her door to slam shut before he turned the car off and gave the keys back to Ian. ‘You good?’

‘Fine.’

‘Really?’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Why are you being such a little bitch, Gallagher?’ Mickey asked.

‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. Just… y’know.’

‘Um. No, I don’t fuckin’ know.’

Ian frowned. ‘Are you keeping anything else secret I should know about?’

‘Wait, are you pissed off because I didn’t tell you I speak more than one language?’ Mickey shook his head. ‘No, I’m not keeping anything else _secret_.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because it’s not fucking important?’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No!’

Ian sighed and ran his hand agitatedly through his hair. ‘It just makes me wonder, you know?’

‘Well I fuckin’ do now, huh?’ Mickey put his hand on Ian’s shoulder and turned the other man to face him. ‘Would it make you feel better if I said sorry?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, alright? Sorry I didn’t think it was important or some shit.’

Ian nodded. ‘Wanna go inside now? I could do with a mini burger.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Mickey paused in opening his door. ‘We good?’

‘We good,’ Ian smiled, kissing Mickey lightly. ‘Burgers?’

‘Man, you really want a burger, huh?’

‘If Mandy hasn’t eaten them all,’ Ian muttered, waiting outside the car for Mickey to come around from the driver’s side. ‘This is a nice place.’

‘Mm,’ Mickey hummed, as they entered the main reception area and went off to the large room where the cocktail hour was in full swing. He looked up at the chandelier and scrunched his face. ‘It’s very…’

‘Grand?’

‘ _Too_ grand.’

‘Why?’ Ian asked, spotting a tray of vol-au-vents coming towards them. He snagged a couple from the tray as it passed them by and handed one to Mickey.

‘Man, I don’t belong in a place with a chandelier than costs more than my yearly expenses for my damn apartment,’ he held up the vol-au-vent and gestured at it. ‘And what the fuck is this?’

‘Tasty. Eat it.’

Mickey frowned at it before shoving the entire thing in his mouth at once. He chewed slowly and glared at Ian with narrowed eyes. He swallowed and said, ‘Fine, you win this round.’

Ian grinned. ‘Come on, let’s go find some drinks.’

‘Hello, boys!’ Mandy cried from behind them. ‘Drinks queue is about fifty people deep, so I wormed my way in and pulled the maid of honour card.’ She handed Mickey a bottle of beer, and gave a glass of orange juice to Ian. ‘You better appreciate it, too, because I’ve been waiting for you guys to appear. Still haven’t found those damn burgers.’

‘Gimme a sec,’ Ian craned his head and scanned the crowd. ‘There are burgers coming towards us. ETA: seven seconds.’

‘Really?’ she asked, peering around people and spotting the burger tray. As soon as the burger attendant was in arms reach, she grabbed two off the tray and smiled somewhat flirtatiously at him. ‘Thanks, Mister Burger Dude.’

‘My name’s Evan,’ the guy said, pointing at his name tag.

‘Mandy,’ Mickey cautioned. ‘Don’t flirt with the food people.’

‘Your name’s Mandy?’ Evan asked. ‘I love that name.’

‘I like yours too,’ Mandy said, tilting her head slightly. ‘Bet it sounds even _better_ –’

‘Mandy,’ Ian interrupted. ‘I don’t really want to hear this.’

‘Maybe listen to your boyfriend,’ Evan said, glancing at Ian in a _“I swear I didn’t want your girlfriend to come onto me”_ kind of way.

‘My boyfriend?’ Mandy waved off the assumption. ‘Nah, he’s my best friend and he’s fucking my brother.’

‘Oh my God,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Shut the fuck up, Mandy.’

Evan blushed and turned swiftly to go serve other people tiny burgers, as Mandy wistfully watched him leave. ‘I liked him.’

‘Probably just because he had the burgers,’ Ian shrugged.

‘Yeah, he wasn’t that hot,’ Mickey said, biting into his burger. ‘These are pretty good.’

‘Told you,’ Mandy replied.

The three of them continued drifting around the area for the cocktail hour, hunting down various miniaturised foods and talking to guests. The people they talked to recognised Mandy and Mickey from their parts in the ceremony, mostly calling them “The Twins” and offering Mandy tissues as a joke, seeing as she had been trying not to cry for the majority of the ceremony.

About ten minutes before the cocktail hour was scheduled to end, one of the other bridesmaids came up to Mandy and spoke quietly to her. Mandy nodded and went off with her, offering no explanation to Ian and Mickey, just dumping her drink and bag on them and telling them to look after them or there would be “fucking massive consequences”.

Soon after, an attendant announced that the main room was prepared for dinner and to follow her through to the dining area.

Mickey and Ian joined the flow of people and quickly found their table near the front and a little bit away from the dancefloor. The people they were seated with, Flynn’s parents and a few other relatives, were cooing over the décor and saying that the place cards and centrepieces were utterly delightful.

Ian nudged Mickey in the ribs and said quietly, ‘Told you they were fine.’

‘Hey, I had nothing to do with the centrepieces,’ Mickey replied, eyeing the fake birds and enormous flowers warily. ‘Where the fuck is Mandy?’

‘No idea. Entering with the wedding party, maybe.’

‘Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed guests,’ Mandy’s voice came through speakers somewhere. ‘Please stand for the new Mr and Mrs Blake!’

‘Found Mandy,’ Ian muttered, as he and Mickey stood with the rest of the guests, cheering and clapping as Svetlana and Flynn entered the room.

They made their way up to their table, and paused for a moment to look at the painting Mickey had done for them. The noise of the room died down as music started, and the pair mingled a bit. They came straight to the table Ian and Mickey were at and while Flynn talked to the other members at the table, Svetlana came to stand behind Mickey’s chair.

‘The painting is perfect,’ Svetlana said, hugging Mickey from behind and kissing his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

Mickey shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face her. ‘It’s fine.’

‘So humble,’ Lana said, shaking her head. ‘Orange boy, make sure he knows how good it is.’

Ian grinned. ‘I’ll be sure to do that.’

‘Good,’ Svetlana winked at them and went off to speak to other guests.

‘We might have to leave a bit early,’ Ian said to Mickey. ‘Maybe around ten thirty-ish.’

‘That’s fine, I hate weddings,’ Mickey replied.

‘You wanna stay at mine tonight?’

‘Sure.’

‘Great, I have a bunch of unscented candles I wouldn’t mind using before I go.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You sayin’ what I think you are?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘What are you saying?’ Mandy interrupted, flopping into the seat beside Mickey.

‘Um…’ Ian glanced at Mickey and said slowly, ‘We’re gonna play Scrabble by candlelight?’

‘Scrabble?’ Mandy asked.

‘Yeah, scented candles give Mickey a headache sometimes.’

‘Oh,’ Mandy nodded, like candlelit Scrabble was a perfectly legitimate excuse. She frowned, ‘Wait. That’s code for something, isn’t it?’

‘What, Scrabble?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wow, okay. Don’t say anything else.’

Ian grinned and whispered to Mickey, ‘Imma play Scrabble with you _so hard_ , and it’ll be great.’

‘Usually is,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘But this time we’re not playing Scrabble on the floor, a’ight?’

‘Kitchen bench?’

‘Sounds more like it,’ Mickey nodded.

‘Guys,’ Mandy groaned. ‘Please shut up.’

 

* * *

 

Dinner, desert, cake cutting, and a fuck load of dancing passed, and it had gotten to the point where the DJ was taking requests. Ian was becoming increasingly pissed off, because Mickey refused to dance, so he was on the floor with little old ladies, overly energetic little kids, and girls who were obviously trying to cop a feel or drag him off to a bathroom somewhere. At some point during the night, Ian and Mickey had both shed their suit jackets, ties – and in Mickey’s case – waistcoat, and Mickey was pretty sure that was a contributing factor to all the attention Ian was getting. Boy looked better than most in a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled.

Still, Mickey watched it all, occasionally laughing at whatever Ian was doing. He watched Ian go up to the DJ, and he just _knew_ that whatever Ian had just requested would be the song he would have to dance to.

As Ian approached him, Mickey stood with a heavy sigh. ‘I have to dance to this one, don’t I?’

‘Yup. Then we can go.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Fine.’

Ian grinned and tugged Mickey to the dancefloor. The beat changed from something more suited to a club, to something much softer that had the older people in the room thanking their lucky stars for.

_Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘We’re gonna slow dance, and you’re gonna like it,’ Ian said, fastening his hand onto Mickey, as the other made an abrupt turn back to their table.

‘Ian, no.’

‘Mickey, yes,’ Ian said, pulling Mickey to his chest and wrapping an arm around his back, to prevent him from wandering off anywhere.

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you?_

‘I hate you so much,’ Mickey mumbled into Ian’s shoulder as they started to sway gently.

‘I know you do,’ Ian murmured.

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes – some things are meant to be._

‘You know what this feels like?’ Ian asked.

‘I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway,’ Mickey muttered, looking expectantly up at Ian.

‘Feels like we’re dancing at our wedding.’

‘But we’re not.’

_Take my hand, take my whole life, too, for I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘I know,’ Ian sighed. ‘At this rate, we never will, either. You’ve turned me down, what, three times?’

‘You’re just gonna have to wait until I’m ready,’ Mickey said.

‘When will that be?’

‘Dunno.’

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes – some things are meant to be._

‘Well,’ Ian said, resting his forehead against Mickey’s. ‘I’ll be waiting when you are.’

_Take my hand, take my whole life, too, for I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘I know you will.’

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘By the way,’ Mickey added. ‘You’re a mooshy bastard.’

‘I prefer the term “romantic”,’ Ian grinned.

‘And we’re not dancing to this at our wedding.’

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

Ian kissed Mickey’s forehead gently. ‘Whenever that might be.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey agreed quietly. ‘Whenever that might be.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheeee okay, first off, the song ian and mickey dance to is 'can't help falling in love with you' by elvis presley.
> 
> and now for some (hopefully okay) translations that aren't actually provided within the fic:  
> vy chertovsky zhartuyesh - are you fucking joking (literally: you fucking kidding me) (either work tbh)  
> da - yes  
> prymusʹ mene - make me  
> suka - bitch  
> lyublyu tebe - love you
> 
> [tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	15. Fine, Fine, Christ Pine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something i never thought i would find myself wondering: "is there a sexier word for hammered?"

_Nine days._

‘What are you doing with Radar when you go?’ Mickey asked, scratching the dog behind the ears as Ian made them pancakes.

‘Mandy,’ Ian said, flipping one in the pan. ‘But she has my sister's number in case she wants to ditch him after a couple of weeks.’

‘What did you have to give her?’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘Twenty five a week for food and the promise I'll get her a fuckton of duty free liquor.’

‘Yeah, that would do it,’ Mickey nodded, making faces at Radar and getting an impatient whine for his efforts. ‘Why didn't you ask me?’

‘Just in case, y'know...’

‘In case what?’

‘In case we don't make seven months and it would become awkward for you to be looking after my dog,’ Ian said quietly, sliding the pancake onto the stack already waiting.

‘Oh.’

‘Is that okay? I mean, you can visit him and have him for a few days if you want or whatever.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, that's fine.’

‘Sure?’

‘Probably for the best, right? Preparing for all outcomes.’

‘Yeah. But we'll be okay.’

‘I hope so.’

 

* * *

 

_Eight days._

‘Will Lord Milkovich please report to reception,’ Cody’s voice rang out over the garage’s PA system. ‘Your sister’s ex-boyfriend is here to see you.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and slid out from under the hood of the car he had been working on. He wiped his hands down his overalls and strolled through to the office, where Cody had his feet up on the desk as usual, and Ian was sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area. ‘Hey, Gallagher,’ Mickey greeted. ‘Didn’t know you were gonna be here.’

‘Me either,’ Ian said, standing up and tucking his hands in his pockets. ‘My flight got changed.’

Mickey’s stomach dropped and his heart leapt into his throat. ‘When?’ he said, knowing Ian would understand exactly what he was asking.

‘Sunday,’ Ian said, chewing on his lip like he was a man dying of starvation. ‘It’s not a huge leap forward from Tuesday, but I thought I should let you know.’

Mickey looked down at his oil stained hands and sucked his top lip in between his teeth. ‘Yeah. Thanks, I guess.’

‘Do you wanna go for lunch? Now I’m here?’

Mickey thought about it for a few seconds, before shaking his head slowly. ‘Nah, man. Gotta get back to work. Break’s not for a couple hours.’

‘Mick –’

‘Gallagher,’ Mickey interrupted lowly. ‘Let me deal with _this_ before I deal with you, a’ight? Come back at one if you want.’

‘Kay, see you later then,’ Ian nodded, and Mickey saw his eyes flicker to Cody, who was watching them interestedly from behind cover of his phone. Ian looked back to Mickey and raised his eyebrows slightly.

It was a silent question, and Mickey shook his head imperceptibly before waving awkwardly at him. ‘See you later.’

Ian exhaled levelly through his nose and saluted Mickey as he turned and left the reception area.

Mickey spun around and glared at Cody. ‘Hope that was entertaining enough for ya.’

‘Where’s he going on Sunday?’ Cody asked, unashamed at having Mickey know he had been listening in.

Mickey gave a long sigh and scratched the back of his neck, probably leaving grease stripes behind. ‘He’s fucking off to London.’

‘London? That’s awesome.’

Mickey set his jaw and made an unimpressed noise. ‘If he doesn’t get me a snowglobe, I’m chopping his balls off,’ he muttered, going back through to the garage proper and continuing to work on the car with renewed vigour.

As he twisted bits, cleaned pieces, and replaced stuff, Mickey pondered over the shit heap that had become his love life. Because, fuck, this didn’t count as a sex life, did it? Hadn’t been merely his _sex life_ for about… oh, two weeks after he and Ian started dating, if he was completely honest with himself.

He supposed it was better that the seven months without Ian started sooner rather than later, because that way, he would be back sooner, right? Unless they extended his stay, which would be a right kick up the ass. It would be weird without Ian always hanging around at his apartment, to say the least, but a five hour time difference wasn’t that bad, and Skype was a thing now, so it wasn’t like they’d never _see_ each other. On a screen would be nothing compared to the real thing, though.

Mickey was just glad that Ian had a decent webcam and his own laptop had a good screen resolution.

So, by the time that Mickey had convinced himself that seven months without Ian wouldn’t be too bad, it was his lunch break.

‘Milky-man,’ Cody sang over the loudspeaker. ‘Your B-F-F is here to wine and dine you, as previously promised.’

Mickey rolled back out from under the car and went back through reception, straight past Cody and that all too familiar flash of orange hair, and into the lockers to clean his hands and get his stuff. He walked back out and flipped off Cody, who was still watching them like a hawk. ‘Gallagher,’ he greeted.

‘Hey,’ Ian said, pushing off the wall he had been leaning against, and following Mickey out the door. ‘You know, I’m pretty sure Cody knows we’re together.’

‘Cody can mind his own fuckin’ business,’ Mickey replied. ‘Where are we going?’

‘That little deli with the good bagels,’ Ian said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. ‘Nostalgia, and all that.’

‘You’re buying.’

‘I’m buying? You asked me, remember? That was the rule.’

‘Yup, and you’re going to London, so you can pay.’

‘Ah,’ Ian nodded. ‘This is the passive aggressive punishment coming out here, huh?’

‘Dunno, probably.’

‘Well, I’m not gonna say sorry, because I know you hate that, but…’ Ian tentatively put his hand out between them, palm up as a sign of surrender. ‘Are you gonna spend the next six days being grumpy, or will you make the most of them?’

Mickey sighed as he eyed up the hand, glancing at Ian’s face, before rolling his eyes and slipping his hand into Ian’s and pulling him closer so their elbows and shoulders brushed with each step. ‘They better be the best six days of my life, or I want a fuckin’ refund.’

 

* * *

 

_~~Seven~~ Five days._

Mickey couldn’t believe he was doing this. Actually, scratch that, he could, but still – before his nerve ran out, he pressed dial.

The phone rang a couple of times, before a gruff voice answered with, ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, uh, Andy?’ Mickey asked.

‘Yeah, this is Andy. That you, Mick?’

‘Mhmm. Cody not in yet?’

‘Nope. Lazy little shit comes in at nine today. Came home this morning at three, hungover as all hell,’ Andy tutted. ‘What stupid kid gets drunk on a Monday night?’

‘Yours, apparently,’ Mickey pointed out.

‘Too damn true. What can I do for you?’

‘I’m not gonna be coming in today. Musta been somethin’ weird on a bagel I had yesterday and my stomach just ain’t agreein’ with it, y’know?’ Mickey wished he was surprised at how easily the lie flowed through his teeth, but then again, he was a Milkovich. Didn’t stop him feeling a bit guilty, because Andy was one of the only people he didn’t want to screw over.

‘Uh huh,’ Andy said, sounding unconvinced. ‘Look, take the week, okay? You’ve got a shitload of leave stored up.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I’ll make Cody get into the cars if we run out of hands, but we should be fine.’

It felt like a weight had flown off Mickey’s shoulders. ‘Don’t let him near my car.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Andy promised. ‘Take care of yourself, Mick. See you Monday.’

‘A’ight. Thanks, man,’ Mickey said gratefully, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room into the armchair opposite him.

‘How’d that go?’ Ian asked, bringing him a mug of coffee.

Mickey made a loud raspberry noise then said, ‘Gave me the week off.’

‘No shit?’ Ian laughed in surprise. ‘Looks like we’re gonna be hermits for the week then.’

‘Apparently. Gotta go past my house for supplies later.’

‘Okay. Looks like it’s gonna be a nice day today.’

‘Hmm?’

‘You know… with sun?’

‘Ugh, sun,’ Mickey muttered, staring darkly at the sky out Ian’s window as he sipped his coffee. ‘I miss winter.’

‘To most people, winter sucks.’

‘Not me. Shouldn’t for you, either. We’re pale as fuck. Step into sunlight and _poof!_ We’re dead.’

Ian grinned and nodded. ‘True. Can’t argue with that.’

‘Nope. Ironclad logic, right there.’

‘Indeed,’ Ian put his mug on the coffee table and went to lie in the small patch of sun on the carpet that wasn’t currently occupied by Radar. ‘C’mere.’

‘Who, me?’ Mickey asked.

‘Duh.’

‘Do you remember the conversation we were having a few seconds ago?’

‘Yup, fuck it.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and put his mug next to Ian’s, then went to lie beside the man himself. He thought better of lying completely in the sun, and turned around so that his head was still beside Ian’s, but now his legs were pointing in the other direction, and he was lying on his stomach. ‘What do you want?’

Ian turned his head to the side and smiled. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi?’

Ian laughed. ‘I’ve just been thinking, is all.’

‘Well that’s fuckin’ novel.’

‘Hush now, unicorn,’ Ian said, turning his head back up to face the ceiling. ‘That cuff you got me for Christmas.’

‘What about it?’ Mickey asked warily.

‘The inscription. “And so, all yours.” Was that you basically saying you love me?’ Ian asked lightly.

‘You had to go and make a big deal outta it, huh?’

‘Not making a big deal out of it. Just asking because you haven’t… you know.’

‘What,’ Mickey scoffed. ‘Haven’t said I love you?’

‘Well… Yeah.’

Mickey sighed impatiently. ‘You’re a fucking idiot, Gallagher.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I really thought it would’ve been fuckin’ obvious. I’m not… Feelings aren’t my area. I don’t do tutti-frutti, gay-ass rainbows and shit.’

‘So you _do_ love me?’

‘’Course, I fuckin’ do,’ Mickey replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ian’s face split into a grin and he turned back to Mickey. He bit his lip and studied Mickey’s face, before saying, ‘Will you say it?’

‘Why? Not gonna make any difference. Won’t keep you warm at night.’

‘I know… But please?’

‘No.’

‘Mickey.’

‘Don’t need to.’

‘Please?’ Ian asked, pulling out the puppy dog eyes. ‘Just once?’

Mickey sighed, put his forehead into Ian’s carpet, and muttered, ‘ _Ya tebe lyublyu._ ’

‘Sorry. Didn’t catch that.’

Mickey picked his head up and gave him a challenging look as he repeated, ‘ _Ya tebe lyublyu_.’

Ian grinned. ‘Good enough for me,’ he said, pushing himself forwards enough to connect his lips to Mickey’s. ‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever floats your boat, gingerbread,’ Mickey murmured, smiling at the man beside him.

 

* * *

 

_Four days._

‘What are you doing?’ Ian asked, straining to be heard over the music Mickey was playing.

Mickey turned the volume of the music down to a more tolerable level, then picked up his pen again. ‘Stop moving.’

‘What?’

‘I said, stop moving.’

‘All I’m doing is lying on the floor,’ Ian replied, cocking an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

‘Yeah, and you were doing it very well,’ Mickey frowned, then glanced between the man in front of him and the pad of paper in his lap. ‘And now you’ve gone and fucked up how you were before and ruined this.’

‘Oh,’ Ian said softly. He readjusted his position until he was lying down in a similar position to how he had been before. ‘Is this better?’

‘Yeah. Move again and I’m not gonna speak to you for the rest of the week,’ Mickey mumbled, swapping his marker for one of the others.

‘I got you those for Christmas, right?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Good?’

‘Very good,’ Mickey looked up and smiled. ‘Okay, give me a couple more minutes and I’ll be done.’

‘Okey dokey,’ Ian said. ‘Can I shut my eyes? I’m getting blinded.’

‘Yeah, go for it.’

Ian hummed and closed his eyes, listening to Mickey’s music and enjoying the warmth of the sun dripping through his clothes. He folded his arms across his chest and twisted the cuff on his wrist that Mickey had given him. ‘Do you wear that chain I got you for Christmas?’ he asked.

‘With the dog tag on it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah… Why?’

‘I just never see it on you,’ Ian shrugged.

‘No, I just don’t wear it in the shower or in bed. Don’t like the feel of something around my neck while I sleep,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘Gives me nightmares.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, and we spend most of our time in a bed, so…’ Mickey huffed. ‘That probably explains it.’

Ian dared to turn his face to look at Mickey. ‘Are you wearing it now?’

Mickey nodded and pulled the chain out from under his top, letting the tag dangle from his fingers.

Ian smiled and turned his head back. ‘I’m glad.’

‘Why? It makes you feel like you’ve claimed me or somethin’?’

‘Something like that,’ Ian grinned. ‘I wear your cuff a lot.’

‘I know,’ Mickey put his eyes back down to his paper and put the cap back on his pen. ‘A’ight, you can move now.’

Ian stood up and flopped down next to Mickey on the couch. ‘Christ, Mick,’ he murmured. The picture was of his face and the upper half of his chest, and the sun rays hitting him, and Mickey had drawn it perfectly. ‘What it must be like to live in your head.’

The side of Mickey’s mouth quirked into a smile. ‘Yeah, well. Y’know. It doesn’t compare to the real thing. Not by a long shot.’

‘My God. Mickey Milkovich, that almost sounded romantic.’

‘Go shove your romance up your ass, Gallagher.’

 

* * *

 

_Three days._

‘I wanna go on a picnic today, Mick,’ Ian said, as they were standing in the bathroom, fixing their hair for the day.

Mickey stared at Ian in the mirror to see if his boyfriend was kidding. He wasn’t. ‘No.’

‘Why not? Radar loves the park.’

‘I hate it.’

‘Why?’

‘Too much sun.’

Ian rolled his eyes and whacked his elbow into Mickey’s. ‘Come on, a little vitamin D never hurt anyone!’

Mickey scoffed. ‘Please examine figure A, a fucking sunburn. Figure B, blistering and peeling skin. Figure C, _fucking melanoma_.’

‘Yeah, but have you ever heard of sunscreen?’

‘Am I an idiot? Of course I have.’

‘Have you ever _used_ it?’

‘Jesus Christ, is this the Spanish Inquisition? Yes, Gallagher. I have. If anything, it seems to attract the fucking sun instead of prevent it from turning me into a fucking shriveled up tomato.’

‘Aw,’ Ian smiled. ‘I think you would be an adorable tomato.’

‘Have you ever fucked a tomato?’

‘Abrupt change of topic, but no.’

‘Good, if you want to _keep_ it that way, we’re not going to the park,’ Mickey replied, slapping Ian’s hand away from where he had been inching it towards his hair and stalking out of the bathroom to the kitchen for breakfast.

Ian joined him a few moments later, watching in amusement as Mickey strained to get his box of Lucky Charms from its shelf in Ian’s cupboard. ‘Need any help there, my precious tomato?’

Mickey poked his head around the side of the door and scowled at his boyfriend. ‘I’m not a fucking tomato.’

Ian shrugged and came over to retrieve the box for him. ‘You might be later, because we’re going on a picnic.’

‘Ian.’

‘Mickey,’ Ian mocked, getting the milk out of the fridge and pouring some into his blender for his morning smoothie.

‘I hate picnics.’

‘Please? I promise we won’t go on another one for… Seven and a half months.’

‘It’ll be winter in seven and a half months,’ Mickey pointed out, putting milk over his cereal and beginning to shovel it into his mouth.

‘Exactly. So it’ll be more like a year,’ Ian replied, dumping a selection of fruit in his blender. ‘Don’t deprive a man of his picnic.’

Mickey went to say something, but was cut off by Ian turning his blender on. He narrowed his eyes at Ian and pushed off from where he had been leaning against the bench, and went to go sit at the table to finish his breakfast.

Ian switched off his blender after a good minute or so of _“Hell is actually opening up and swallowing me”_ noise, put some in a cup and slurped it loudly. It seemed to him that Mickey wasn’t going to give in easily and go on a picnic with him, so Ian decided to switch up his tactics. He walked over to the table and stood behind Mickey, placing his hands on the other man’s shoulders. ‘Mick, come on.’

‘No, Gallagher. No picnics.’

‘Too gay?’ Ian asked, trailing his hand over Mickey lightly as he came around to stand beside his chair.

‘Way too gay,’ Mickey agreed.

‘Well, know something else even gayer?’

Mickey eyed Ian with interest as he straddled his lap and linked his hands behind Mickey’s neck. ‘I’m listening…’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian hummed, grinding slowly on Mickey, who apparently didn’t give a shit about the fact that the remainder of his cereal was about to become a soggy mess. ‘If you go on a picnic with me, we can spend the entire day in bed tomorrow.’

‘Oh really?’ Mickey asked, putting his hands on Ian’s hips and tilted his head to the side as Ian started nuzzling at his neck.

‘Yup, promise,’ Ian murmured, continuing his grinding, and stroking his thumbs down the back of Mickey’s neck. ‘But only if we picnic.’

‘You’re not gonna let this go, are you?’

‘Nope.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Please, Mick.’

Mickey groaned and whacked his forehead into Ian’s shoulder. ‘Fine.’

‘Great!’ Ian said, slipping off Mickey and acting like nothing had happened. ‘I’ll organize some food, then we can head out?’

‘It’s not even nine a.m., Gallagher.’

‘So?’

‘We’re not gonna be at the park for hours.’

‘Why not?’

Mickey gave him an incredulous look as he spooned his soggy cereal into his mouth. ‘See earlier discussion about fucking tomatoes.’

Ian grinned. ‘So we’ll go at… eleven-ish? Should give us time and get us there at a lunch appropriate time.’

‘Fine, whatever. Better make it worth my while though.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. I will.’

‘Wanna start on that right now?’ Mickey asked, leaning back in his chair, spreading his legs, and biting his lip in what he hoped was a seductive manner.

Ian snorted at the bit of cereal stuck in Mickey’s teeth, and the milk gathered at the corners of his mouth. ‘No.’

‘Aw, come on,’ Mickey said. ‘Why not?’

‘You’ve got food all up in your teeth.’

‘So? I saved it for you.’

‘God, you’re disgusting.’

‘Yeah, and you _love_ it. You want to _kiss_ it. You want to _marry_ it,’ Mickey sang.

‘Did you rip that off from _Miss Congeniality_?’

Mickey blushed. ‘Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’

‘Good God,’ Ian said, slamming his hands on the counter and putting on a weird accent. ‘The small, thuggish one sings with _The Bodyguard_ and paraquotes _Miss Congeniality_! Is this what our criminal class has come to be made of? Adorable short people that like B-grade movies?’ Ian put a hand to his head and gave Mickey a look of faux-horror. ‘Where are the good old days where horse heads were put in someone’s bed? Where people like Jack the Ripper walked free? Send me back!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Ever heard the term overkill?’

Ian released his pose and went back to pouring the remainder of his smoothie into a jug for later. ‘I would be inclined to call it an apt description. Seriously, you were in and out of prison _how_ many times? And you’re watching chick flicks? Mick, come on.’

‘Excuse you, I’ve never been to prison and fully intend to keep it that way, because my dad is in there,’ Mickey stood and dumped his bowl in Ian’s sink. ‘I went to juvie. Mostly to get the fuck away from _him_.’

Ian sighed. ‘Maybe so, but still. Chick flicks? You? With the _“FUCK U-UP”_ tattoos?’

‘What can I say? I’m a walking contradiction.’

‘Yes, and a very _cute_ contradiction,’ Ian smiled, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and resting his chin on his head. ‘Make all the boy contradiction go… _hwaaaargh._ ’

Mickey pulled out from under Ian and looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. ‘ _Princess Diaries_. Really. Who’s into chick flicks now, huh?’

‘Fuck off, Chris Pine was in it.’

‘Yeah, he’s pretty fine.’

‘Chris fine Pine.’

Mickey snickered. ‘Fine fine, Christ Pine.’

Ian grinned. ‘God, we’re idiots.’

‘Mhmm. It’s okay though.’

‘Yeah, it’s okay.’

 

* * *

 

Ian was almost bursting at the seams with how happy he was in this moment. He and Mickey had just finished their lunch, and Mickey was complaining about being _“tired as fuck”_ , so while Radar ran around like an idiot, chasing his ball, and leaping through the grass, Ian suggested that Mickey take a nap.

Mickey shrugged, yawned, then curled up on the picnic blanket. ‘This is actually really fucking uncomfortable, Ian,’ Mickey muttered, rolling around between lying on his back and on his side. ‘Got a pillow in your bag, Mary Poppins?’

‘Strangely, no,’ Ian replied. ‘Just put your head in my lap, Mick. No one gives a shit.’

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes, trying futilely to get comfortable anyway, but eventually relented and scooched up the blanket to rest his head on Ian’s crossed legs. ‘I can see up your nose,’ he announced. ‘I think I see your brain.’

‘Jesus Christ, go to sleep, you fucking walnut.’

Mickey grinned and shut his eyes, humming softly when Ian started combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair.

It was all so domestic, and Ian felt oddly like Hugh Grant at the end of _Notting Hill_ , which was definitely really fucking odd, because that would make Mickey a pregnant Julia Roberts. Except Ian was pretty sure that Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts didn’t have a dog. And Mickey definitely wasn’t going to come to Ian in the middle of a bookstore and say he was _“just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her”._ If he did, it would be nothing short of a miracle that fulfilled a couple of Ian’s really fucking weird and specific fantasies.

Mickey was snoring softly by now, Radar had finally decided that he was done with chasing stuff, like small dogs and even smaller children, and was now rolling around on the grass beside Ian.

‘What are you doing, you fucking idiot,’ Ian murmured, scratching his dog’s belly with one hand and still combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair with the other.

Ian didn’t want to wake Mickey up, but there was a brief, horrifying moment where Ian’s brain got confused, and he started stroking Radar and scratching Mickey’s head, so he decided it would be for the best if he just ignored them both and occupied his hands some other way.

Radar was still twisting around on the grass, legs waving in the air, and Ian watched him in amusement. ‘God, I can’t believe we’re related sometimes,’ Ian said, poking his dog’s foot. His smile dropped as it occurred to him that he and his dog were, in fact, not even remotely related. ‘Oh my God. You’re like my canine life partner,’ he whispered.

Radar obviously tired of the conversation – or his patch of grass, whatever – and went to curl up beside Mickey, nudging his head under Mickey’s hand beside his hip.

‘I’m actually really offended right now, bud,’ Ian said, shaking his head at Radar’s blatant betrayal and preference of Mickey. He looked around for something to do, other than stuff on his phone, and spotted a patch of daises not far away. ‘Oh, _perfect_.’

He plucked a decent amount, and started poking holes and threading the stems through each other, creating a little daisy crown. When Ian had finished the first one, he stretched forward, careful not to dislodge Mickey from his lap, and put the garland over Radar’s head, using his ears as anchors to make sure it wouldn’t fall off. He gathered some more daisies, and went about making a flower crown for Mickey.

Ian was lucky he managed to get the finished daisy crown on Mickey’s head without him noticing, and luckier still that he was able to get a photo before he did, because as Ian had discovered, Mickey was an incredibly light sleeper most of the time. Maybe one day he would analyse what that meant, but today was not that day.

As expected, Mickey cracked an eye open, holding an arm up to shield his sensitive eyes from the sunlight, and touched his forehead with the other hand. ‘The fuck is this, Gallagher?’

‘Flower crown,’ Ian said, smiling down at him like he was the most adorable thing to ever live.

‘Fuckin’ flower crown?’ Mickey asked, pulling the thing off his head and staring at it in confusion. ‘The fuck?’

‘I made it for you, my prince.’

‘Prince?’

‘Would you prefer princess?’

Mickey sat up and tossed the daisy chain onto Ian’s head. ‘No, I’ll be the prince, and you can be the fuckin’ princess, a’ight?’

‘Okay,’ Ian grinned, leaning forward to kiss Mickey before he could object.

‘How long was I out?’

‘Not long. Maybe forty minutes?’ Ian said, checking his phone.

‘Huh. You feel better now you’ve had your picnic?’ Mickey asked, scratching his neck and yawning.

‘Much, thank you.’

Mickey’s mouth quirked into half a smile, and he reached over to adjust the daisies on Ian’s hair. ‘It’s okay. Princess.’

‘I’m really not insulted by that, you know. I am a fucking princess.’

‘Oh, I know.’

‘You wanna go home now, don’t you.’

‘Yeah. Had enough sun to last me a few months.’

‘So you’re like a solar panel?’ Ian asked, as they stood to pack their stuff up.

‘No, I’m not a fuckin’ solar panel, Gallagher. I’m pale as shit and this tan will last me through to winter,’ Mickey replied, shaking the picnic blanket out.

‘That’s not a tan,’ Ian pointed out. ‘And being pale? You realise who you’re talking to right now, yeah?’

‘Yeah, a ginger princess.’

‘Oh, good. Glad we agree on that.’

 

* * *

 

As soon as they got home, Ian dumped the bag they had taken to the park right next to the front door. ‘Hey, Mick?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Think you’re sunburnt?’

‘I think I’m safe. Why?’ Mickey asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Ian.

‘Don’t wanna learn what it feels like to fuck a tomato.’

‘Well,’ Mickey slipped his shoes off, and pulled his shirt off over his head. ‘Better get right on that in case I _do_ burn.’

‘You know what?’ Ian said, tossing his daisy crown – which he was _still_ wearing – onto the table beside his door, and taking his shirt off as well. ‘I think you’re right.’

Mickey grinned and they surged towards each other, working quickly to undo the other’s belt and shoving their hands down their pants. ‘Bedroom?’

‘Fuck it,’ Ian replied, latching his mouth onto Mickey’s shoulder, and pushing his pants and boxers out of the way. He yanked Mickey’s hands out of his pants and spun them around, pinning Mickey to the wall next to his bedroom doorway. He pulled his own pants down and off, and went back to working up a bruise on Mickey’s pale skin.

Mickey sighed and fisted his hands into Ian’s hair, sighing as Ian reached down to stroke his hardening cock. ‘Hold up, hold up.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Ian asked, immediately pausing in his ministrations.

‘Gotta take the chain off,’ Mickey said, starting to tug it over his head.

‘No, don’t,’ Ian replied, breathing hotly against Mickey’s skin. ‘Leave it on, leave it on.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey said, letting out a noise of surprise when Ian wrapped his hands around the backs of his thighs and lifted him up.

‘Actually, we should probably move into the bedroom,’ Ian murmured. ‘Gotta get the lube.’

‘Fine, fine! Hurry the fuck up!’ Mickey said, nudging Ian’s bare ass with the heel of his foot.

Ian grinned and carried Mickey to his bed. He tossed the smaller man onto the sheets and quickly grabbed the lube from beside his bed. He popped the cap and squirted some onto his fingers, pushing one into Mickey and relishing the gasp that escaped the other man’s lips.

‘Jesus Christ, Gallagher,’ Mickey breathed. ‘You needa hurry the fuck up.’

‘God, _give_ me a second!’ Ian replied, slipping a second finger in and thanking every God he could think of that he and Mickey had been going at it like rabbits the past few days, so Mickey didn’t really need that much preparation. He pulled his fingers out, slicked himself up, and pushed in to the hilt in one smooth motion.

‘Fucking shit!’ Mickey gasped. ‘A’ight, move!’

‘I’m adjusting!’

‘Ian, _roll the fuck over_ ,’ Mickey said. ‘We’re doing this my way.’

‘Okay, okay!’ Ian said, wrapping an arm around Mickey as to not dislodge him and rolled onto his back, bringing Mickey to sit on him.

Mickey sighed as he adjusted to his new position, before he planted his hands on Ian’s chest and began to move. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘Fuck,’ Ian agreed, putting his hands on Mickey’s hips and helping him achieve leverage. ‘Good fucking shit, you look so hot right now.’

‘I fucking know,’ Mickey said, changing his angle slightly and managing to his hit sweet spot. ‘Ah, fuck!’

‘Jesus, _Mickey_ ,’ Ian moaned, barely able to keep his eyes open and watch Mickey fuck himself on his cock, the dog tag bouncing against his chest with his movements. ‘Shit!’

‘Ian, fucking roll!’ Mickey gasped.

‘I’m getting there!’ Ian cried, pushing them around, so Mickey was lying on his back, legs tight around Ian as he pounded into Mickey, hitting that spot with each thrust. ‘Fuck, Mickey!’

‘Oh, God,’ Mickey moaned. ‘I’m –’

‘ _Jesus!_ ’

‘I’m not Jesus, but I’ll accept it!’ Mickey cried.

Ian laughed and attached his mouth to Mickey’s other shoulder as he felt himself reach the edge. ‘Oh, God.’

‘ _Shhhhhh_ –’ Mickey hissed, ‘Ugh, fuck!’ he cried, coming across his and Ian’s chests.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian cried, as the spasming of Mickey’s muscles pushed him over, and he came deep inside Mickey. He slumped across Mickey, and pulled out as he rolled away. ‘God, I’m gonna miss this.’

‘Me too,’ Mickey agreed breathlessly. ‘Seven months, man.’

‘I think that’ll last me seven months.’

‘That was the idea.’

‘It was a _great_ idea. I think we should have a repeat performance, actually,’ Ian said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe against the wall this time.’

‘A’ight, gimme a moment, Casanova.’

‘Okay, but _only one_ moment. Can’t waste any, right?’

Mickey grinned. ‘Something like that.’

 

* * *

 

_Two days._

Ian wasn’t totally certain what the fuck Mickey was doing right now, but it felt suspiciously like he was drawing on his arm. He was pretty sure Mickey thought he was asleep, which was why he had grabbed a pen from Ian’s bedside table and started doodling on him.

Ian slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to watch Mickey, and saw that the other man was unsurprised he was awake.

‘Finally,’ Mickey murmured. ‘Was wondering when you were gonna stop pretending to sleep.’

Ian smiled a bit, and looked down to his arm. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Drawing.’

‘Yeah, I see that. Drawing what?’

‘Well, a few things…’ Mickey said awkwardly, tapping his lips with the end of the pen and glancing nervously at Ian.

Ian tilted his head and frowned. ‘Was I so out of it that you managed to draw all around my arm?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Okay… I want a quick run through and explanation of everything.’

‘Right. Well,’ Mickey pointed at the bird on the inside of Ian’s arm. ‘Firebird. Slavic mythology. Sometimes pictured as a crested, glowing peacock.’ He pointed at a tree on the outside of Ian’s arm, with roots extending down to almost his elbow, boughs reaching around, and up to his shoulder. ‘Tree of Life, or Yggdrasil in Norse mythology. Connected all the nine realms, so I dunno. London, New York. Connecting our realms, or something. It’s stupid.’ Mickey lifted Ian’s arm and touched the final thing there. ‘You probably can’t see that without a mirror or whatever, but that’s my griffin.’

‘ _Your_ griffin?’

‘Mhmm. Known for guarding treasure and prized and priceless possessions, so… my griffin,’ Mickey said scratching his nose awkwardly.

‘Mickey,’ Ian said slowly. ‘Are you saying that’s _your griffin_ because it’s guarding a priceless possession, aka me? Am I your _treasure_?’

‘No, don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous,’ Mickey blushed, tossing the pen back to Ian’s bedside table.

‘Aw, Mick,’ Ian kissed his reddening cheeks and pushed Mickey’s hair from his face. ‘You’re so –’

‘Hold that thought,’ Mickey interrupted, launching off the bed to get his phone from the floor. ‘Yeah?’

_‘Hey, Mick, it’s Andy,’_ the other voice crackled.

‘Oh, hey. What’s up?’

_‘How are you feeling today?’_

‘Yeah, good. Better. Why?’

_‘Can you come in? I know I said the week was yours, but Asher called in sick. He’s got shit coming out his ears apparently, and I’m not equipped to deal with that,’_ Andy explained.

‘Yeah, no. I get you. When do you want me?’

_‘As soon as you can get here. I hope you weren’t sleeping?’_

‘Nah, just, um. You know. In bed with the other half,’ Mickey said, coughing to fend off the awkwardness he felt creeping up on him.

_‘Oh, shit. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything?’_

‘Nope. Stopped it before it could even start.’

_‘Oh, sorry,’_ Andy cleared his throat. _‘So, yeah. ASAP would be good.’_

‘Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in an hour, tops. I’m not at home.’

_‘Great. Thanks, man.’_

‘A’ight. See ya.’

Andy hung up and Mickey flopped backwards onto the bed. ‘Fuck.’

‘You okay?’

‘Called into work. Asher’s drowning in shit, or something.’

Ian grimaced. ‘Sounds great. Want me to drop you off?’

‘Yeah, just at my apartment so I can get my boots, okay?’

‘Sure. Breakfast?’

‘Mm. One of your weirdass shake things? Don’t have time for anything else.’

‘Okey dokey. I’ll go fix one for you.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey said, rolling onto his stomach and kissing Ian’s hip. ‘Gimme a few minutes.’

‘Mmkay,’ Ian yawned. ‘Go make yourself presentable and pretty.’

‘Fuck off, I’m always pretty.’

 

* * *

 

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at work?’ Ian asked, as he stopped outside Mickey’s apartment building.

‘It’s like a two minute walk. I’ll be fine.’

‘Sure?’

‘ _Yes_ , Gallagher,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’

‘When do you finish?’

‘Not sure. Might work some overtime, seeing as I don’t have to be at the restaurant today. I’ll call you when I’m at home.’

‘Okay,’ Ian smiled. ‘Have a good day!’

‘Yeah, you too,’ Mickey said, grudgingly accepting Ian’s kiss on the forehead. ‘Sorry we couldn’t stick to our plans of staying in bed the whole day.’

‘It’s okay. I forgive you.’

‘What’re you gonna do?’

‘Dunno. Don’t you have a job to be getting to?’

‘It’s called procrastination, asshole,’ Mickey frowned. ‘You’re right though. Fuck that.’

‘Bye bye, baby!’ Ian sang, as Mickey grumpily climbed out of the car. ‘Baby, goodbye!’

 

* * *

 

When Ian got back to his apartment, his first stop was his bathroom. This morning, he had essentially rolled out of bed, thrown on the first clothes he saw, and combed his fingers through his hair in order to get it under control. He hadn’t exactly been in front of a mirror yet today, so he hadn’t really seen what Mickey had doodled on his arm in full.

Ian pulled his shirt off, and stared critically at the drawings in the mirror. ‘Hmm.’ He tilted his head, and looked at the whole thing, lifting his arm to see the firebird on the inside, and twisting awkwardly to see the griffin on the back. He really liked the tree, actually.

And that gave him an idea.

 

* * *

 

‘Sure?’

‘Yeah, just… You know. Do it.’

‘Exactly like this?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Colour?’

‘Mm… Not at this stage.’

‘Okay, let me know when you wanna go.’

‘Right now.’

‘Yessir.’

 

* * *

 

_One day._

‘Any particular reason you’ve got a bandage on your arm?’

‘Nah, just… you know. Radar got enthusiastic and scratched me.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows, but said nothing and turned back to his bowl of Lucky Charms.

‘You know,’ Ian swirled his smoothie idly. ‘We haven’t really talked about it yet.’

Mickey stilled poking around at his cereal and looked up to Ian. ‘We don’t need to.’

‘I leave tomorrow.’

‘And this is a conversation I’m happy not to have.’

‘It’s a conversation we _should_ have.’

‘Then have it by yourself,’ Mickey shrugged.

‘Come on, Mick. Just tell me how you want this to work.’

‘Preferably from the same city, but y’know. That’s not about to happen, is it?’

Ian heaved a sigh and tentatively reached out for Mickey’s hand. He was surprised when Mickey accepted it and tightly threaded their fingers together, squeezing his hand. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Then tell me how _you_ want it to be.’

‘I want us not to fall apart.’

‘Yeah, that would be pretty fucking great.’

‘Skype at least a few times a day.’

‘At least.’

‘And feel free to surprise me by coming over for a visit,’ Ian added hopefully.

Mickey snorted. ‘Unlikely.’

‘I know,’ he kissed the back of Mickey’s hand. ‘We’re okay, though, right?’

‘Yeah. We’re good.’

 

* * *

 

‘Photobooth.’

‘No.’

‘Please.’

‘Ian, no.’

‘Yes, Mickey. Oh my _God_ , yes.’

‘Oh my God, _no fucking way_.’

‘Please.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll blow you in there.’

‘You know what? I think a photobooth is a great idea.’

‘You have some serious voyeuristic tendencies.’

‘Ay, _you_ suggested it. Gonna follow through, gingerbread?’

‘I suppose I gotta now, huh?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Fine, let’s do it.’

‘Don’t get grumpy at me for accepting your most gracious offer.’

‘Jesus Christ, whatever. Just make it fast.’

‘You know nothing gets me off faster than public fellatio.’

‘Fucking weirdo.’

‘I’ll even take a strip of photos while you’re down there.’

‘Oh. Okay. I could get behind that.’

‘Nuh uh, you’re getting _under_ that.’

‘Can I get behind it later?’

‘You don’t really get much of a choice. Last dick I’ll have in my ass for seven months, man.’

‘True. Shall we?’

‘Absolutely.’

 

* * *

 

_(No More) D-Day._

‘I don’t want you to go,’ Mickey murmured. It was almost three a.m., and neither of them were sleeping.

‘I know,’ Ian replied, stroking his thumb over Mickey’s wrist. ‘It’s not too long.’

‘Seven months is a fucking long time, Ian.’

‘If I was in the army, it would probably be longer.’

‘But you’re not, so it’s a moot point, dumbass.’

‘I was for a few months,’ Ian replied. ‘Could’ve stayed.’

‘Didn’t.’

‘I know.’

Mickey rolled over to face Ian, before giving up on looking him in the eyes, and tucking his head under Ian’s chin. ‘This fucking sucks.’

‘I know.’

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘I can tell,’ Ian sighed. ‘You wanna go play Mario Kart or something?’

‘Mario Kart?’ Mickey huffed. ‘A’ight. You go set it up. I gotta piss.’

‘Mmkay,’ Ian said, dropping a kiss on Mickey’s shoulder. He rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, before going off to the living room to start up the console.

Mickey rolled onto his back and took a moment to lash out at the sheets, before allowing them to settle and climbing out of bed. He kicked his feet around, aiming to land on something, and ended up finding his boxers, so he put those on and went to the bathroom.

Once he finished in there, Mickey returned to Ian’s bedroom, looking for something else to put on.

‘Hey, so I got it ready and we can start when you’re ready,’ Ian said, hearing Mickey enter the living room. ‘My God, what are you wearing?’

Mickey tugged on the sleeves of his sweater. ‘Mandy got it for me.’

‘Are those bees?’

‘Yeah.’

Ian eyed up the sweater, which was clearly meant to be oversized on his tiny boyfriend. The sleeves covered everything but the tips of his fingers, and the bottom edge came down to mid-thigh. ‘Are you even wearing anything under that?’

‘Yes,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and pulled up the hem. ‘See?’

Ian bit his lip and held out the second controller. ‘You look adorable.’

‘Fuck off.’

 

* * *

 

‘Gallagher, I swear to fucking Christ, if you cry on me, I’m not talking to you for a month,’ Mickey said, batting at the other man as his eyes got watery.

‘I’m sorry, Mick,’ Ian said, sniffing heavily. ‘I’m just gonna miss you so much.’

‘Shoulda thought of that, huh?’

‘Don’t get all high and mighty on him,’ Mandy said, whacking her brother on the shoulder. She had been designated as driver, seeing as Ian had been a mess from the second they stopped playing Mario Kart and got some breakfast, and Mickey would undoubtedly fall apart as well, no matter how much he said he wouldn’t.

‘Fuck off, not getting high and mighty,’ Mickey muttered, kicking her behind the knee.

Mandy slumped forward and pushed at her brother as she stood back up to her full height. ‘Assface.’

‘Children, don’t bicker,’ Ian said. ‘Oh God, did you guys know my family was gonna be here?’

‘What?’ Mickey asked, spinning around and seeing an approaching hoard of Gallaghers. ‘Oh, Jesus.’

‘We couldn’t let you go without seeing you off!’ Fiona called, striding forwards, arms outstretched.

Ian allowed himself to be encased by his family, and all of them proceeded to become a blubbering heap of snot and emotion. ‘I’m gonna miss you guys.’

‘You hardly see us as it is, but thanks,’ Debbie piped up. ‘Skype us, yeah?’

‘Yeah, of course. There’s not really another option.’

‘Shall we get drinks or something?’ Fiona suggested, wiping tears away and off her face.

‘Sounds good,’ Ian nodded, following his family to one of the small cafés dotted around the place. ‘Mick, come on.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and tugged Mandy with him into the clowder of Gallaghers. ‘Jesus.’

‘Mick, get over it. It’s his family.’

‘You didn’t come with me to the airport when I left Chicago.’

‘Yeah, that’s because I had to stay behind and tell everyone you’d just gone out for a pack of smokes, right?’ Mandy said, as they joined the Gallaghers in a booth.

Ian was surrounded by his family, and it annoyed Mickey more than it should’ve. Debbie was the only one to realise, and she nodded at Mickey to swap places with her. ‘It’ll be harder for you than us,’ she murmured, as Mickey slid in beside Ian.

‘Thanks,’ Mickey muttered. He stared sullenly at the table while the Gallagher caught up with each other and downed their drinks, and soon it was approaching the time for Ian to leave.

They left the café, and Ian stared at Mickey expectantly. ‘Gonna say anything?’

‘Nope.’

Mandy punched him in the lower back and hissed, ‘Get the fuck over yourself.’

Ian cracked a watery smile, and moved from Mickey to Mandy. ‘Take care of Radar, and be good, Mands.’

‘Yeah, I’ll try,’ she said, leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. ‘Bring me back some nice shoes or something.’

‘I’ll be sure to do that,’ Ian promised. He moved through his family, all asking for something to be brought back as well.

Carl received a slap to the back of the head from Fiona when he asked Ian to bring him back a carton of cigarettes and three bottles of vodka, but the effect was lost, as Fiona had tears dripping off her face, and was on the verge of absolute, hysterical crying.

Ian came back to Mickey, and didn’t say anything. He just pulled him to his chest and buried his face in Mickey’s hair. ‘God, I’m going to miss you so much.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey croaked, shoving his face into Ian’s shoulder. ‘If you don’t Skype me, I’ll kill you when you get back.’

‘I know. I won’t forget,’ Ian sighed and hugged Mickey closer. ‘We’ll be okay.’

‘Every time you say that, you jinx it a little bit more.’

Ian laughed, and wiped his eyes. ‘I should get going.’

‘Okay.’

‘I love you.’

‘Yeah.’

Ian kissed Mickey’s hair and stepped back. ‘You’re not gonna say it, are you?’

‘If I say it now, it’ll hurt more for you to go,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘Just… fuck off. Okay?’

‘Yeah. Okay,’ Ian dropped his hands and picked up his carry on. ‘Bye, everyone.’

‘Bye, Ian!’ the assembled Gallaghers and Mandy said, waving fiercely as he turned and walked towards his terminal.

‘Are you seriously gonna just let him go?’ Mandy asked, poking her brother in the side. ‘You know you’re making a fucking massive mistake right now.’

Mickey watched as Ian reached about halfway between their group and his terminal, before he glanced at Mandy. ‘Oh God.’

She nodded. ‘Yup. Go, lover boy.’

‘Fuck,’ Mickey muttered. He thumbed at his bottom lip, then said again, louder, ‘Aw, fuck.’

Mickey Milkovich was not one to run. He used to, but that was usually from police. Now, seeing Mickey Milkovich running was not dissimilar to seeing a unicorn. Very, very, fucking rare. So when Ian heard cries of _“Go, Mickey!”_ and a lot of whoops that sounded like his family, he paused and spun around, receiving a heap of dark haired man for his efforts.

Ian didn’t even get the chance to say anything, because Mickey first body slammed him, and then crushed their mouths together. Ian melted into his boyfriend, and kissed him back, instinctively cradling his face with one hand, and wrapping the other around his waist.

Mickey broke off, and apparently seeing as he was now operating on a “fuck everything and everyone to Hell” sort of thing, he said, ‘ _Ya tebe lyublyu. Litaty bezpechno, i ne buty mudakom_.’

Ian smiled and leaned his forehead against Mickey’s. ‘You know I still don’t speak Ukrainian.’

‘I know. I just wanted to say it twice and not sound like you.’

‘Not sound like me?’

‘Yeah, all emotional and gay.’

Ian laughed. ‘Pretty much describes me, Mick. What did you say?’

‘I said, “I love you. Fly safe, and don’t be an asshole.”’

‘You love me.’

‘Yes, I fucking love you,’ Mickey said, punctuating his statement with another kiss. ‘I fucking love you, and I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, so you better fucking come back.’

‘I will, don’t worry,’ Ian kissed him again, and said, ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ Mickey said, leaning his head on Ian’s chest and hugging him again. ‘Now, fuck off, or you’ll miss your flight.’

‘I know. I love you.’

‘Stop saying that,’ Mickey paused. ‘Love you too.’

They let go of each other, and Ian picked up his bag again. He checked in, and before going around the corner, he turned around and saluted Mickey, mouthing _“I love you!”_ once more, before disappearing from sight.

Mickey stood, continuing to watch Ian’s gate until he felt arms wrap around his shoulders from behind him. ‘We should go, Mick,’ Mandy said softly. ‘I’ll take you home.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Okay.’

Mandy tugged on his arm gently, and he followed her out to Ian’s car.

As predicted, Mickey broke down before they even left their parking spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, my uninteresting notes.  
> first off, if you're from new zealand (bc idk if that ad plays anywhere else) and are wondering about the "hush now, unicorn" thing, then yes. it is from that thing. ("i don't have a horn? imma pegasus?")  
> secondly, it was a legitimate struggle for me to write "chris" because i kept typing "christ". which is where the "christ pine" thing came from.  
> also, the word "clowder", which i used to refer to the gallaghers, is the collective term for a group of cats. i don't know why i thought it would be a good idea to use it for the gallaghers, yet here we are.
> 
> [hi come see me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	16. Look At This Gayass Sunset, Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said this would be up by the weekend, and it is, just... a few days earlier than i expected. so?? idk. i hate myself a little :) oh, also, there are live youtube links! so enjoy those~

It fucking sucked having Ian not there, and Mickey was already running near on empty. He was only managing to get a couple of hours of sleep a night, but he was holding up. He couldn’t let it slip that something was going on, because then everyone might ask questions.

Elle, the owner of the restaurant he worked at, was one of the only people who knew about him and Ian, and was also one of the only people to spot something was up with him.

Three days after Ian had left, Mickey was working his shift, and had gone into the kitchens to get a drink for someone, when Elle cornered him next to the fridges.

‘Alright, what’s going on?’ she asked, rolling her eyes when Mickey looked affronted and scandalised that there could possibly be something affecting him. ‘Don’t give me that, Mickey, I can read you like a book.’

Mickey sighed and put the glass down to chuck some ice in it. ‘Ian’s gone.’

‘Your boyfriend?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Where did he go?’

‘London.’

‘Like for a holiday..?’

‘Work. Seven months,’ Mickey said glumly, slamming the fridge door with more force than was necessary.

‘Wow,’ Elle said, watching him pour carrot juice into the glass. ‘What does he do?’

‘He’s an editor.’

‘Ah, a smart one.’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Seven months is a long time, Mickey.’

‘I know,’ Mickey said, picking up the glass and staring at it, like it was personally responsible for Ian’s leaving.

‘You’ve got a plan, though, right? You’ll be okay?’ Elle asked.

‘We’ll be fine. Skype and stuff.’

‘It’s just gonna be hard not seeing him for seven months.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, let me know if you wanna take a holiday and go see him, okay? You’re due some leave.’

Mickey shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I’m gonna stay here.’

Elle shrugged. ‘Offer’s on the table.’

‘Okay. I should take this out.’

‘Of course. You’ll be fine, Mickey. You’re a tough little nut.’

The side of Mickey’s mouth quirked into a smile. ‘Thanks, Elle.’

 

* * *

 

_One week._

It might’ve looked to Elle and all other interested parties that Mickey was fine, but on the inside, he felt like he was falling apart. And he fucking hated it. He hated how he had turned into this soft idiot who felt like everything hung on whether or not there was some ginger dork floating around in his circle.

Mickey knew it would take a week or so for Ian to get everything up and running, but he still compulsively checked whether Ian was on Skype, or if he had received any emails from him.

The day that _“Ian is online”_ popped up on the bottom of his screen, Mickey nearly had a heart attack. Then the little squelchy noise came through his speakers, signaling he had been sent a message.

Of course, Skype fucking froze right around then, so Mickey was sitting on his bed, half hard from the porn he had been watching moments earlier, and listening to that fucking _squelch_ every time Ian sent him another message.

Skype finally got its shit together, and Mickey clicked right into Ian’s conversation.

 

**Sunday, May 17 th, 2015 [7:32:03 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _hey babe! you around?_

**_Ian:_ ** _mickkkkkkkkk_

**_Ian:_ ** _mickey ANSWER ME DAMMIT_

**_Ian:_ ** _I KNOW UR THERE_

**_Mickey:_ ** _LAPTOP FROZE CALM UR DICK_

**_Ian:_ ** _DICK IS NOT CALM_

**_Ian:_ ** _DICK IS VERY EXCITED BY UR ARRIVAL_

**_Mickey:_ ** _it’s been a week gallagher!_

**_Ian:_ ** _TRUST ME I FUCKING KNOW_

**_Ian:_ ** _FUCKING CALL ME RIGHT NOW_

Mickey didn’t need to be told twice, and straight away clicked video call. He drummed his fingers against his knee as he waited for Ian to pick up. It only took a couple of seconds for him to answer, but it felt like years since they had talked last, and Mickey nearly passed out with relief when he saw Ian’s face.

‘Hey, Mick,’ Ian said, grinning in that way he did whenever he saw Mickey. His voice sounded weird coming through Mickey’s speakers, and it made him _ache_.

‘Hi,’ Mickey replied hoarsely. ‘Hi.’

Ian laughed. ‘It feels like forever since I’ve seen you. How are you?’

Mickey coughed awkwardly. _Missing you like fuck_. ‘Could be better. How’s London?’

‘It’s really cool. I start tomorrow, and I’ve met a couple of people from my office, and they seem really great.’

‘That’s… good.’

‘Yeah, I think so. Have you been to see Radar yet?’

‘Not yet. I think I’ll go hang out with him on Tuesday. I miss the furry little fuck.’

‘Me too,’ Ian said sadly. ‘Almost more than I miss you.’

Mickey sighed and leaned against the wall behind his bed. ‘Yeah. Well –’

‘Shoulda thought of that earlier?’ Ian nodded. ‘Yeah. Really didn’t think this through as much as I should’ve.’

Mickey shook his head. ‘Nah, man. You made a good call. Once in a lifetime opportunity, right?’

‘Yeah, I guess. But that’s not gonna help me sleep at night, is it?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Definitely not,’ Ian shuffled around a bit and moved to lean against a wall, as well. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, and just watched Mickey watch him. ‘I miss you, Mick.’

‘Miss you too, Gallagher,’ Mickey said sadly. ‘Wish you weren’t so good at your job.’

Ian laughed. ‘What can I say? I’m just naturally fantastic.’

‘Uh huh, that I’d agree with,’ Mickey said, biting his lip and cocking an eyebrow.

‘Get your mind out of the gutter,’ Ian said, smiling as he shook his head. ‘I’m too tired to do dick stuff right now, Mick.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. I have to go, anyway. It’s nearly one a.m., and I have work tomorrow.’

‘Ugh, fine,’ Mickey huffed. ‘Go get some sleep.’

‘I’ll try. I love you.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘Ditto.’

Ian blew him a kiss and ended the call, leaving Mickey even sadder than he had been to begin with.

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, May 20 th, 2015 [4:34:17 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _i know ur not there, but u listened to ur shit on my spotify too much and it suggested me a bunch of shit_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and it seems like the kinda shit u’d be into_

**_Mickey:_ ** _so here_ [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xqw4wo8vdY8_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xqw4wo8vdY8)

**Wednesday, May 20 th, 2015 [6:13:09 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _ooh that’s good_

**_Ian:_ ** _here’s one for you x_

**_Ian:_ ** [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dysG12QCdTA_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dysG12QCdTA)

**_Ian:_ ** _but it’s yooooooou my love_

**_Ian:_ ** _you’re my laaaaand ahoooooooy_

**_Ian:_ ** _actually a really sad song when u think about it…_

**_Ian:_ ** _oh well_

**_Ian:_ ** _it’s catchy :)_

**Wednesday, May 20 th, 2015 [11:52:32 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _u weren’t supposed to send me one_

**_Mickey:_ ** _now i feel like i have to keep sending u songs i find_

**Thursday, May 21 st, 2015 [3:35:48 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _please do x_

**Thursday, May 21 st, 2015 [7:14:33 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _aight_

 

* * *

 

**Friday, May 22 nd, 2015 [11:59:21 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _spotify is making me like ur taste in music_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i hate it_

**_Mickey:_ ** _makes me miss u more_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuckin stupid_

**_Mickey:_ ** _have this_

**_Mickey:_ ** [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOGfEPtXbzo_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOGfEPtXbzo)

**Friday, May 22 nd, 2015 [2:32:13 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _improving ur taste in music even from london_

**_Ian:_ ** _high five to me_

**_Ian:_ ** _u love it_

**_Ian:_ ** [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pgum6OT_VH8_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pgum6OT_VH8)

**_Ian:_ ** _is2g every link u send me imma send one back_

**_Ian:_ ** _new game? x_

**_Mickey:_ ** _if u feel like u need to_

**_Ian:_ ** _;) i do_

**_Ian:_ ** _skype tomorrow?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _what time?_

**_Ian:_ ** _10am for you? 3pm for me?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _do i wanna get up that early tho_

**_Ian:_ ** _are u seriously questioning that right now_

**_Mickey:_ ** _hmmm…. will there be dick stuff_

**_Ian:_ ** _will u get up at 10 for dick stuff_

**_Mickey:_ ** _are U seriously questioning that right now_

**_Ian:_ ** _good point. ur dedication to dicks is impressive_

**_Mickey:_ ** _;)_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i gotta go to mandy’s but see u tomorrow?_

**_Ian:_ ** _can’t wait xxx_

 

* * *

 

Mickey walked to Mandy’s, a bag of beer in his hand and the usual bounce missing from his step, and trudged into her building and up the stairs. He couldn’t even be bothered knocking on the door, so he just kicked it a few times and hoped he wouldn’t have to make much more of an effort to get his sister’s attention.

Thankfully, Mandy came to the door a few moments later, and immediately frowned at him. ‘Jesus, Mick. You look like shit.’

‘Thanks, Captain Obvious,’ Mickey grumbled, walking in and making a beeline for her sofa. He cracked open a lukewarm beer and downed half in one go without a word.

‘Have you been sleeping?’ Mandy asked, actual concern tinting her tone as she shut the door and walked into the kitchen to get their snacks. ‘Actually, let me rephrase that. Have you slept since Ian left?’

‘A couple hours, here and there,’ Mickey replied, relaxing himself into her cushions. ‘Elle thinks I’m dying, so she gave me the night off.’

‘She’s damn near close to the truth, isn’t she?’ Mandy said, pressing play on whatever shitty DVD she had chosen.

‘Mhmm.’

‘Have you tried sleeping pills or anything?’

‘Fuck off, I don’t need sleeping pills.’

‘What _do_ you need?’

Mickey shrugged and finished his beer. ‘I need to get the fuck over myself, because it’s gonna be like this for six and a half more months.’

Mandy sighed and put her arm over Mickey’s shoulder. She was surprised that he actually leaned into her side, but then again, Mickey had always gone a bit… soft when he was super sleepy. ‘Mickey, you needa sleep. You know that, right?’

‘Yeah, I know that.’

‘You can’t live off eight hours of sleep a week.’

‘Mm…’ Mickey hummed thoughtfully. ‘More like eleven or so.’

‘I sleep for eleven hours a day on the weekend, Mick.’

‘Yup.’

Mandy shook her hair, and a few strands fell out of the bun perched on top of her head. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Mickey shrugged again and simultaneously kicked off his shoes and shed his coat. ‘If I fall asleep, don’t wake me.’

‘Will you fall asleep? Like, is that something you’re planning on doing?’

‘No fucking clue. Turns out I sleep better if there’s someone else around now,’ he mumbled.

Mandy gave him a small smile and nodded. ‘I know the feeling. Feel safer, right?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Wanna borrow Radar? He’s a good snuggle buddy.’

‘Radar?’

‘Yeah, you forget about him?’ Mandy asked, getting up off the couch. ‘He’s in the hall.’

‘Why’s he in the hall?’

‘Lana doesn’t like having him on the couch,’ Mandy shrugged, opening the door to the hall and whistling for the dog.

Radar came barreling down the hall, and launched himself at the couch, wagging his tail, and shoving his face in Mickey’s, as he tried to lick every inch of him.

‘Hey, you fluffy shit!’ Mickey cooed, stroking Radar down the length of his back. ‘Man, I missed you.’

Mandy smiled as she flopped onto an armchair, giving Mickey and Radar the couch, because apparently no one was gonna stop that dog from sitting on the couch. Ian gave him too much free reign. She watched them continue their little lovefest for a while, before Radar curled up on one end of the couch, and Mickey stretched out along the rest of the length of it, curling his legs around Radar.

A few minutes later, Mickey was snoring gently, and Radar had moved his head to rest it on Mickey’s calves.

Mandy smiled and took a picture of it, sending it to Ian via Snapchat with the caption: _“Your boys are sleeping c: finally”_. She got a notification a few minutes later to say Ian had taken a screenshot.

* * *

 

When Svetlana burst through the door, Flynn at her heels, and both laden with shopping bags, the first thing she noticed was that Radar was on the couch.

‘Mandy, why is dog on sofa?’ she asked, dropping the bags of shopping on the floor.

Mandy looked up from her phone and held a finger to her lips. She pointed at Mickey and whispered, ‘He hasn’t slept properly in weeks, and now he’s been out for four hours.’

‘That does not explain dog,’ Svetlana replied, lowering her voice, because she could understand that Mickey would need his sleep.

‘Radar is acting as temporary Ian, or something,’ Mandy said. ‘I don’t get the logistics of it, but he’s helping Mick, so I don’t care.’

Svetlana rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, okay. Is Mickey staying for dinner?’

‘Probably. I’m gonna let him sleep until he wakes up by himself.’

‘Okay. I will make him a plate,’ Svetlana nodded.

‘Poor dude,’ Flynn commented. ‘Wonder how Ian’s holding up. You heard from him?’

‘Not really. He’s been busy with everything,’ Mandy said. ‘As far as I can tell, he’s pretty down in the dumps as well.’

‘God, these two are like…’

‘Co-dependent as fuck?’

Flynn huffed in agreement. ‘They’re definitely getting there, aren’t they?’

‘Mm. A bit.’

‘God forbid they ever break up, huh?’ he said, gathering the bags of shopping Svetlana had left behind and waddling towards the kitchen.

‘God forbid,’ Mandy agreed. ‘And we’ll all go down with them.’

Flynn shook his head. ‘We crew a doomed ship, I think.’

Mandy shot him a look. ‘I fucking hope to God you’re wrong.’

‘Me too,’ Flynn cast another glance at Mickey. ‘Don’t really want to have your brother sleeping on my couch every night.’

‘No, me neither,’ Mandy said. _Don’t want to see him hurting any more._

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, May 23 rd, 2015 [9:58:09 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _mickeyyyyyyyy_

**_Ian:_ ** _mickey are u there yettttttttttt_

**_Ian:_ ** _miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiickeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_

**_Ian:_ ** _MICKEY GET THE FUCK UP YOU LAZY SHIT_

**_Ian:_ ** _holy fucking shit are u fucking serious right now i’m going to rip your dick off when i see you_

**Saturday, May 23 rd, 2015 [10:02:12 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _jesus fucking christ keep ur pants on gallagher_

**_Ian:_ ** _YOU OVERSLEPT YOU LITTLE SHITBALL_

**_Mickey:_ ** _GALLAGHER_

**_Mickey:_ ** _CHILL_

**_Mickey:_ ** _I_

**_Mickey:_ ** _AM_

**_Mickey:_ ** _HERE_

**_Ian:_ ** _YOU TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME_

**_Mickey:_ ** _what 4 fucking minutes_

**_Ian:_ ** _exactly_

**_Mickey:_ ** _ur a turd u wanna do this or not_

**_Ian:_ ** _ur lucky ur cute_

**[Call Incoming: Ian]**

 

‘Where the Hell are you?’ Ian asked. ‘I can hear you breathing but there’s no picture?’

‘Give me a sec,’ Mickey said, turning his camera back on in the options. ‘See me now?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian said happily. ‘You see me?’

‘Uh… No.’

‘Damn, okay,’ Ian muttered. There was a few loud clicking noises, and then the grey swirl appeared over Ian’s icon.

‘Okay, it’s getting there…’ Mickey said, tapping his fingers impatiently. ‘I see your hair. What the fuck are you doing?’

Ian’s head popped up from the bottom of the screen, and he grinned sheepishly at Mickey. ‘Plugging in my charger. How are you?’ he asked, climbing back into the desk chair Mickey could clearly see.

‘I’m good,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I went to see Mandy and Radar yesterday and ended up crashing on her couch for a few hours.’

‘How many is a few?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Uh… About six. Almost seven,’ Mickey rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. ‘How are you?’

Ian shrugged and settled backwards in his chair. ‘I’m okay, I guess. Could be better.’

‘How’s your apartment?’

‘I like it. It’s about the same size as yours, which, y’know. It’s okay. I miss mine though. And those damn jeans? Yeah, I miss those, too,’ Ian sighed and rubbed idly at his arm. ‘I miss Radar. And you, of course.’

‘I’d hope you’d miss me,’ Mickey sniffed. ‘So you called me outta bed so we could do dick stuff, yeah?’

Ian rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. ‘Yeah, you said you wanted to do dick stuff, didn’t you?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Obviously. Alright, dick stuff it is. But next time, we’re watching a movie, and I get to pick.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and thought it over for a few moments, though really it wasn’t a hard decision. ‘Fine.’

‘Deal?’

‘Deal.’

Ian grinned and his picture shook as he picked up the laptop and moved to his bedroom, tugging the charger out of the socket and rushing to find another one on the walls he was still not familiar with. ‘Okay, I’m plugged in, you ready?’

‘Mm… gimme a sec,’ Mickey said, rolling off the bed, before sticking his face back in view of the camera. ‘Just dick stuff, or butt stuff as well?’

‘Up to you, but I know you’re somewhat of a voyeur and I’m honestly not gonna turn down that.’

Mickey looked thoughtful and disappeared from view again to get something from one of his drawers. Ian had an idea of what he was doing, but didn’t want to say anything in case he was wrong, and waited not-so-patiently for Mickey to return. ‘Mickey, what are you doing?’

‘Trying to find something!’ came the reply. ‘I don’t know where the fuck I put it.’

‘What are you looking for?’

‘The thing you got me for Valentine’s. If I left it at your apartment, I’m gonna be fuckin’ _pissed_.’

Ian laughed. ‘No, I put it in the box of stuff you took from mine.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, wrapped it up in something so you wouldn’t look like some creepy fuck if someone saw you walking down the street with a dildo.’

‘How considerate,’ Mickey said, his voice slightly muffled from being away from the microphone. ‘Found it!’

‘Great,’ Ian said. ‘You wanna come back here, then?’

Mickey appeared back on Ian screen and waved the plastic dick at him. ‘Are you sure this is the one closest to your size?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian nodded. ‘Smaller, actually.’

‘Jesus Christ, Ian,’ Mickey murmured. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Now are you gonna stop staring at it in awe and get your fucking pants off?’

‘Sorry,’ Mickey smiled sheepishly. ‘Okay. Let’s do this.’

‘Thank God,’ Ian said. He put his laptop down the bed and lifted his hips to push his sweatpants down a bit. ‘How are you doing over there?’

‘I’m good,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and kicked his pants off, yawning as he grabbed his bottle of lube and got straight to putting a finger in his ass. ‘Better now.’

Ian shook his head with a small smile on his face and started stroking himself lightly as Mickey adjusted his laptop with his free hand so he could still see Ian, and Ian could see what he was doing. ‘Does this feel weird to you?’ he asked.

‘Mm…’ Mickey yawned again and continued moving his finger in and out as he thought for a moment. ‘Not really, but you seem to think I have “voyeuristic tendencies” so that probably explains it.’

‘You do have voyeuristic tendencies,’ Ian deadpanned. ‘Then again, this is like live action porn.’

‘Isn’t all porn live action?’

‘Not if it’s hentai.’

‘I don’t think we should talk about that.’

‘No, I think you’re right,’ Ian sighed. ‘How do you want to do this?’

‘What?’ Mickey asked, gasping a little as he added in a second finger.

‘Fuck, I don’t know,’ Ian replied, biting his lip as he watched Mickey. ‘I think if we’re gonna do this more often, you need a better webcam.’

‘Ay, fuck off. This one is built in, I’m not buying a webcam when I already _have_ one.’

‘Mm, okay,’ Ian agreed. ‘You look really hot right now, just by the way.’

Mickey laughed quietly and turned his head to look at Ian. ‘Yeah, you too, I guess.’

Ian grinned and continued to slowly move his hand up and down his cock. ‘Hey, Mick?’

‘Mm?’

‘Touch yourself.’

‘What?’

‘Touch your dick, dammit.’

Mickey laughed again and sighed deeply as he used his spare hand to give some attention to his cock, as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of himself. ‘Better?’

‘Dunno, _is it_?’

‘Yeah, actually,’ Mickey half shrugged. ‘A’ight, gimme a sec.’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian hummed, watching Mickey find his lube again, slick up the dildo, and hold it at his entrance. ‘Oh God, Mickey.’

‘What?’ Mickey asked, biting his lip as he pushed it in past his rim. ‘Okay, yeah, this feels like you.’

Ian groaned, and his movements on himself sped up a bit. ‘Fuck, I miss you so much right now.’

‘Only when I got your fake dick up my ass, right?’ Mickey asked, moaning quietly as he brushed his prostate. ‘Definitely feels like you. Size-wise.’

‘Yeah, my dick’s not plastic,’ Ian sighed. ‘Turn your laptop a bit, Jesus.’

‘God, you’re bossy,’ Mickey muttered, nudging his laptop a bit. ‘Better?’

‘Much, thank you,’ Ian nodded.

Mickey grinned at the little moan Ian made, as he watched Mickey fuck himself with the dildo. ‘Enjoying the view, Gallagher?’

‘Fuck off,’ Ian said breathlessly. ‘God, I should’ve stayed.’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey replied, throwing his head backwards and tilting his hips a bit so that he was hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. ‘Ah, fuck.’

‘So hot, Mick.’

‘Move your camera down a bit, Gallagher.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise, just do it.’

Ian rolled his eyes and moved the screen down to where he was fucking his own fist. ‘Better?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Mickey sighed again and screwed his eyes shut. ‘How close are you?’

‘Pretty fucking close.’

‘Good,’ Mickey gasped, erupting onto his stomach.

‘Jesus,’ Ian mumbled, coming a couple of moments later.

They stayed as they were for a few moments, breathing heavily, until Mickey pulled the dildo out and threw it onto his dirty washing pile to be dealt with later. He dropped his legs and grabbed a couple of tissues to clean himself up with, then rolled to his side to face Ian on his screen. ‘You okay?’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m good.’

Mickey gave him a small smile. ‘Good, or actually good?’

‘Nah, just… sated.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey mumbled, turning his screen back towards him properly.

‘You really are beautiful though, Mickey,’ Ian said quietly. ‘I could spend all day looking at you.’

Mickey dropped his head to hide his smile. ‘You’re not bad yourself, gingerbread.’

Ian laughed, then sniffed loudly, wiping idly at the corner of his eye. ‘Maybe with a better webcam.’

‘Or, y’know, the real thing.’

‘Yeah, or that,’ Ian agreed, wiping his eyes again.

‘I swear to God, if you’re gonna start crying at me, I’m gone, Gallagher,’ Mickey warned.

‘No, I won’t cry. Promise. Just… emotional. I miss you a lot, Mick.’

‘I know. I miss you too.’

Ian bit his lip to stop it from trembling. ‘I suppose it’s rational to feel a bit homesick, right?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah, I know how you feel.’

‘You’re homesick?’

‘I suppose you could call it that.’

‘Why are you homesick? You’re at home.’

‘Yeah, but…’ Mickey scratched his nose and gave a small shrug. ‘You’re not here.’

Ian frowned as he processed that. ‘You’re homesick for me?’

‘Yeah, I mean, you’re kinda like home to me, Gallagher.’

‘Fuck, babe, are you _trying_ to make me cry?’ Ian asked, giving a watery laugh. ‘You’re like my home, too, Mick.’

Mickey shoved his face into his duvet and turned slightly to the side so Ian could hear him speak clearly. ‘Okay, this is getting too gay for me.’

‘You really need to stop saying that kinda stuff right after having a dick – real or not – up your ass.’

‘Kneejerk reaction. Sue me.’

‘I will sue the pants off you.’

‘Literally?’

‘Maybe,’ Ian smiled. ‘But just your pants. Maybe your shirt, too. Depends how I’m feeling.’

‘Don’t gotta sue me to get into my pants, Gallagher.’

‘Nah, just gotta be your _home_.’

‘I’m gonna regret saying that.’

‘Mhmm. Don’t worry, I still love you.’

Mickey lifted his head and gave Ian a genuine smile. ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way.’

 

* * *

 

**Friday, May 29 th, 2015 [4:13:08 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _so it looks like when ur not here i have crazy writer’s block_

**_Ian:_ ** _so i actually have to go through these fucking manuscripts_

**_Ian:_ ** _life is hard_

**_Ian:_ ** _like my dick_

**Friday, May 29 th, 2015 [4:21:33 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm sorry that was inappropriate_

**Friday, May 29 th, 2015 [4:52:00 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _i miss you_

 

* * *

 

**Monday, June 8 th, 2015 [10:59:43 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _this fucker came into the restaurant today right_

**_Mickey:_ ** _sat in my section_

**_Mickey:_ ** _took one look at my knuckle tats_

**_Mickey:_ ** _demanded to speak to the head waiter_

**_Mickey:_ ** _told him i WAS the head waiter_

**_Mickey:_ ** _thought i was lying_

**_Mickey:_ ** _nearly fuckin knocked his teeth out_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuckin scum of the earth thinkin he’s better than me bc i have fuck u up on my hands_

**_Mickey:_ ** _he reminded me of lip_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and that reminded me of u_

**Monday, June 8 th, 2015 [11:39:07 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _when the fuck are u comin back asshole_

**Tuesday, June 9 th, 2015 [2:34:31 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _ooooooookayyyyyyy im a lil drunk_

**_Mickey:_ ** _not really_

**_Mickey:_ ** _more just slightly tipsy_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i mean i had like 5 beers????_

**_Mickey:_ ** _but i thought u should know_

**_Mickey:_ ** _ur like oxygen man_

**_Mickey:_ ** _really fuckin hard to live without now i'm used to havin it_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuckin hate you for leavin_

**_Mickey:_ ** _it’s hard to breathe now_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuck you gallagher_

**Tuesday, June 9 th, 2015 [4:45:53 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _i know_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm sorry_

**_Ian:_ ** _i miss you_

**_Ian:_ ** _i love you_

**_Ian:_ ** _more than breathing_

**_Ian:_ ** _so i'll deal with the lack of oxygen for now_

**_Ian:_ ** _until i get back_

**Tuesday, June 9 th, 2015 [12:53:21 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _me too_

**_Mickey:_ ** _but ur still an asshole for leavin_

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, June 13 th, 2015 [2:33:14 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _are u there?_

**_Ian:_ ** _it says ur online_

**_Ian:_ ** _but idk you might just not have logged out or something_

**_Ian:_ ** _mick?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _yeah im here_

**_Ian:_ ** _free?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _for you_

**_Mickey:_ ** _of course_

**[Call Incoming: Ian]**

Before Ian’s picture even came onscreen, Mickey could tell Ian was, or had been, crying. ‘Dammit, Gallagher, why you sniffling at me?’ he groaned.

‘You can’t even see me yet!’ Ian protested.

‘Yeah, but I can hear you, dumbass.’

‘Don’t be mean, I’m in a very emotional place right now.’

‘Yeah, I know. I can hear it,’ Mickey rolled his eyes as Ian appeared on his screen. ‘Fuck, man, you’ve really been going at it, haven’t you?’

‘Fuck off,’ Ian said thickly.

‘What’s your problem?’

‘I just…’ Ian blew his nose and tossed the balled up tissue somewhere out of shot. ‘I really miss Radar.’

‘What?’

‘It’s been over a month since I saw my damn dog and I fucking miss him, okay?’

‘Jesus, alright.’

‘But hey, one down, six to go, right?’

‘Exactly,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I seriously can’t talk to you if you’re gonna keep crying, so can you wrap that up?’

‘Yeah, I’m pretty much cried out, don’t worry,’ Ian sniffed again, then reached beside him and had a gulp of water. ‘Okay. Okay, I’m good.’

‘You’re good?’

‘I’m good.’

‘Good,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Hey.’

Ian broke into a grin. ‘Hey.’

‘How’s your week been?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Fine, I suppose. One of the people I work with came over a few days ago and told me my apartment looked barren, so he went and got me some decorative twigs?’

‘Are you fucking with me?’

‘Nope,’ Ian shook his head and moved out of the way from the camera, so Mickey could see the vase filled with twigs. ‘Wait until you see _this_ though,’ Ian said. He got up out of his chair, and went over to the vase to fiddle with something for a few seconds, before the twigs lit up.

‘Holy shit, Gallagher,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Are they covered in fairy lights?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘I don’t know how I feel about them.’

‘Who gave them to you?’

‘Oh, this guy, Tom.’

The name sounded kind of familiar to Mickey, but he was sure it was a coincidence, so he left it and just nodded. ‘Right. How’s everything else?’

‘Fine, I guess. I’ve made a bunch of friends, and they’re pretty cool. They know a lot of good places to go,’ Ian smiled as he sat back in his chair. ‘How’s everything with you?’

‘Good. Busy, actually. A few of Lana’s friends are getting married, and they want one of those things that I did for her and Flynn.’

‘Oh, cool!’

‘Yeah, I mean. It’s cash, right?’

‘Right,’ Ian nodded. He paused, frowned, and held up a finger. ‘One second.’

Mickey shrugged, and Ian got up and went off somewhere. A few moments later, Mickey heard talking, and Ian appeared back on his screen. ‘Everything good over there?’

Ian gave him an apologetic smile. ‘A couple of people I work with have decided to take me out to dinner.’

‘Oh. Okay. You should go.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wanna watch a movie tomorrow? I found this thing that lets you watch movies online with people.’

‘Sounds good,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Don’t make yourself look too hot, okay? Don’t want people trying to steal you.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘I promise I’ll go out wearing the most hideous things I can find.’

‘Good.’

‘Oh, and can you wear that bee sweater tomorrow? I like it and I miss it.’

Mickey gave him a withering look, but the hopeful expression on Ian’s face made him relent. ‘Fine.’

‘Ah, you’re the best.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘See you tomorrow,’ Ian said, winking at Mickey. ‘Love you.’

‘A’ight, whatever,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Love you too.’

Ian smiled again, and the call ended, leaving Mickey alone in his apartment, with an enormous canvas to finish painting, a hoodie that still clung to Ian’s smell, and an assortment of things he could shove up his butt that only left him feeling sad.

What Mickey wouldn’t give to have Ian back already.

 

* * *

 

‘We’re watching _Mean Girls_.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘Ian, we’re not watching that fuckin’ movie again,’ Mickey said, shaking his head adamantly.

‘Well, you know what?’ Ian said, starting the movie anyway. ‘I’m in charge of the thingy, and you know you love it.’

‘Not really.’

‘Mickey. I know you better than you think I do. You love this movie.’

Mickey bit his lip to stop from smiling. ‘Shut up.’

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, June 21 st, 2015 [3:59:02 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _just woke up_

**_Ian:_ ** _could’ve sworn u were here_

**_Ian:_ ** _turns out i was asleep and dreaming_

**_Ian:_ ** _fuck i miss u_

 

* * *

 

**Friday, July 10 th, 2015 [12:13:34 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _happy 2 months apart-iversary_

**_Ian:_ ** _five to go babe_

**_Ian:_ ** _thought it would’ve gotten easier by now_

**Friday, July 10 th, 2015 [7:17:42 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _and somehow it hasn’t_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i miss u man_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and i still fuckin hate u_

**Friday, July 10 th, 2015 [10:45:32 pm]**

**_Ian:_ ** _it’s like 4am rn_

**_Ian:_ ** _and im???_

**_Ian:_ ** _i got an alert on my phone hahaha_

**_Ian:_ ** _to remind me of our anniversary_

**_Ian:_ ** _do u remember when it’s our anniversary?_

**_Ian:_ ** _the 24th_

**_Ian:_ ** _our first anniversary_

**_Ian:_ ** _and we’re not together_

**_Ian:_ ** _we won’t get to have anniversary sex for our first anniversary mick_

**_Ian:_ ** _the universe is cruel_

**_Ian:_ ** _i miss u so much mickey_

**Saturday, July 11 th, 2015 [1:10:02 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _u won’t believe me but yeah i did know that_

**_Mickey:_ ** _had an alert in mine too_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u better send me somethin_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i've already sent u somethin_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i will accept a snowglobe_

**_Mickey:_ ** _dead serious_

**_Mickey:_ ** _will also accept dick pics_

**_Mickey:_ ** _or_

**_Mickey:_ ** _y’know_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u comin back for a few days_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i mean_

**_Mickey:_ ** _if u want_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i want u to_

**Saturday, July 11 th, 2015 [1:42:56 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuck u for leaving me_

 

* * *

 

‘Hey,’ someone said, nudging Mickey’s foot as he worked on the undercarriage of the car.

Mickey slid out and sat up, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. ‘Cody. Sup?’

‘Are you okay?’ Cody asked, tucking his hands in his pockets and looking around the workshop, with a half-disgusted expression.

‘Me? Fine. Why?’

‘You’ve been pretty antsy since that dude went wherever.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘The ginger dude?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ian,’ Mickey slid back under the car. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You two weren’t…’ Cody let his sentence linger, before he cleared his throat. ‘You know.’

‘No.’ _No fucking way is he finding out._

‘So… you’re single?’

‘Depends who’s asking.’

‘Me.’

Mickey huffed and said, ‘You callin’ me gay?’

‘Are you serious?’ Cody snickered. ‘My gaydar is on point.’

‘Your _gaydar_ can go fuck itself.’

‘You didn’t give me an answer,’ Cody said, ignoring Mickey’s last statement. ‘Drinks? I’ll buy.’

‘No thanks. Uninterested in you, or guys in general.’ _Unless you’re six foot, ginger, and called Ian._

Cody sighed. ‘Well, when you come to terms with yourself, you hit me up.’

‘Not gonna happen!’

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, July 22 nd, 2015 [5:45:43 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _cody asked me out_

**_Mickey:_ ** _apparently his “gaydar is on point”_

**_Mickey:_ ** _it is but whatever_

**_Mickey:_ ** _he can get fucked_

**_Mickey:_ ** _just not by me_

**_Mickey:_ ** _like ever_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuckin child_

**Wednesday, July 22 nd, 2015 [7:03:21 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _he’s only a couple years younger than me mick_

**_Ian:_ ** _he’s not exactly jailbait_

**_Ian:_ ** _and i mean…_

**_Ian:_ ** _never mind_

**_Ian:_ ** _i got ur present in the mail btw_

**_Ian:_ ** _thanks for sending me those jeans :)_

**_Ian:_ ** _i really did miss them_

**_Ian:_ ** _and i promise not to wear them around company_

**_Ian:_ ** _i hope u get what i sent u soon?_

**_Ian:_ ** _it’d suck if u didn’t get it on time :(_

**_Ian:_ ** _woulda been better if i could’ve given it to u in person_

**Wednesday, July 22 nd, 2015 [9:56:23 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm sorry i didn’t think this through_

 

* * *

 

_‘Good evening, my brother. What can I do for you?’_

God, Mickey had stooped low. ‘Busy tonight?’

Mandy hummed on the other end of the line. _‘What’s the occasion?’_

‘My fuckin’ idiot of a boyfriend isn’t here.’

_‘I know… He hasn’t been here for a couple months, Mick,’_ Mandy sounded slightly confused. _‘Are you just realising this now or something?’_

‘I’m not stupid, Christ, Mandy.’

_‘So what’s up then?’_

‘He’s not here,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘And it’s our anniversary.’

Mandy was quiet for a few moments. _‘Okay, give me a sec,’_ she said, and there was muffled talking as Mandy put her hand over the mouthpiece. _‘We’re taking you out.’_

‘We?’

_‘Lana, Flynn, me, and you. Out.’_

‘Mandy, I don’t –’

_‘Shut up,’_ Mandy said, cutting him off. _‘We’ll be at your apartment in half an hour.’_

‘Jesus, no, you don’t –’

_‘You said you wanted to hang out, we’re hanging out. See you soon,’_ Mandy said, ending the call.

Mickey tried to be pissed off about how pushy his sister was, but he really couldn’t bring himself to be. His mood had been deteriorating over the past few days, and now it seemed to have come to a head in the form of him being desperate enough to call _Mandy_ to hang out. Either that, or Mickey really needed to find himself some damn friends.

 

* * *

 

Mickey was pissed off, to say the least, that he was spending his first fucking anniversary of being in a committed, adult relationship – with a _guy_ , no less – without the person he was in said relationship with. No, he was getting drunk with his sister and her married roommates, aka the scary ass Russian woman with a fondness for claw hammers, and the IT programming dude with a man bun that Mickey wouldn’t have said no to in another life.

And he was getting drunk. He was the only one getting drunk. Svetlana had an iron gut and it took half a bottle of vodka for her to start feeling remotely tipsy, Flynn didn’t drink at all, and Mandy preferred to watch her brother slowly spiral into the ground, because when Mickey was drunk, he went one of two ways: quiet, or rambling about whatever was on his mind. Seeing as it was his and Ian’s anniversary, Mandy was betting it would be the latter.

And, _boy_ , was she right.

‘Fuckin’ fucker,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Fuckin’ _fuckturd_. Fuckin’ off to fuckin’ _England_.’

‘Who, Ian?’ Mandy asked, feeding the flames in Mickey’s head.

‘No, the fuckin’ _Queen_. Yes, Ian,’ Mickey said, knocking back another shot and resting his head on the bar. ‘Miss the ginger asshole.’

‘Less than five months, though, right?’

‘Five _fucking_ months. Really fuckin’ long time, Mandrizzle.’

‘Mandrizzle?’ Svetlana repeated, looking between Mandy and Flynn to make sure she heard that right. ‘We should cut him off.’

‘Don’t cut me off,’ Mickey whined. ‘Cut me _in_.’

‘What does that mean?’ Flynn whispered.

‘No idea,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘Mickey, are you okay?’

‘No, I’m not fucking okay!’ Mickey howled, slamming his head into the bar, and laughing sadly. ‘I miss Ian,’ he twisted his head to look up at Mandy and said, ‘I love him, Mands. This is bad.’

‘That he’s gone?’

‘Fucking _gone_.’

‘I think he knows you miss him,’ Svetlana said, patting his shoulder awkwardly. ‘He calls a lot. Tells Mandy and cries.’

‘He cries?’

‘He cries.’

‘I cry sometimes,’ Mickey said in a small voice. ‘Not much, but I never cry, so it’s like a fuckin’ flood.’

‘You cry when you watch _The Bodyguard_ ,’ Mandy pointed out.

‘Everyone cries at that movie!’

‘Nope,’ Flynn shook his head. ‘Don’t get what the big deal is.’

‘You don’t drink,’ Mickey grumbled. ‘You can’t be trusted and neither can your opinions.’

Flynn rolled his eyes. ‘It’s nearly midnight. You wanna take him home?’

Mandy nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ll stay with him.’

‘Okay. You will be fine with him by yourself?’ Svetlana asked.

Mandy nodded. ‘Yeah. I can handle Mickey.’

‘Ian handles me best!’ Mickey moaned. ‘Bring me Ian!’

‘Definitely time to go,’ Flynn said lightly.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right,’ Mandy agreed, watching her brother dissolve into a sobbing mess, leaving snot and tears all over the bar. ‘Gross.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, you’ve been moping for weeks,’ Ava announced, hanging upside down on Ian’s couch, with her curly brown hair dangling on the floor. ‘What’s going on?’

Ian rubbed at his eyes and let out a long sigh. ‘My boyfriend back in New York?’

‘Mickey, right?’ Ava said, sitting up and scrunching up her face as the blood rushed from her head. ‘Oh, that was a bad idea.’

‘I told you.’

‘You did. What about Mickey?’

Ian frowned and sunk backwards into his couch, wedging himself between the cushions. ‘It was our anniversary yesterday.’

‘Really? That’s incredible. Congratulations,’ she smiled. ‘How long?’

‘Yeah, that’s why I’m…’ Ian gestured to himself. ‘First anniversary.’

‘Ah,’ Ava nodded and patted him on the knee. ‘Moping because there was no anniversary, “We made it a year!”, and loving sex, right?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Well, there are these things you can buy, you know…’ Ava trailed off, and rolled her eyes when Ian stared blankly at her. ‘You shove it in your ass?’

‘Oh,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Not my style, usually. I, ah. You know.’

‘You put it in?’

‘Bingo.’

‘Right.’ Ava sighed and put her head on his shoulder. ‘You wanna go get pissed?’

Ian sighed again. ‘Can’t drink on my meds.’

‘That’s right.’ There was silence for a few minutes until Ava cleared her throat and said, ‘Wanna go buy junk food and watch movies instead?’

‘I could be tempted. What movies?’

Ava shrugged. ‘How do you feel about _The Bodyguard_?’

_Hate that movie almost as much as Mickey loves it._ ‘Yeah, alright.’

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, August 1 st, 2015 [3:21:44 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _this feels like it’s getting harder instead of easier_

**_Ian:_ ** _my friend ava thinks i'm never fun bc all i do is mope about u_

**_Ian:_ ** _i’m fun, right?_

**_Ian:_ ** _maybe i'm only fun with u bc u make me better_

**_Ian:_ ** _fuck that was cheesy_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm sorry_

**_Ian:_ ** _i wish this would get easier_

**Saturday, August 1 st, 2015 [3:53:02 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _we’re 9 days away from 3 months mick_

**_Ian:_ ** _then we’re almost halfway_

**_Ian:_ ** _maybe it’ll only be easier at halfway and then i'll just get anxious to see u again_

**Saturday, August 1 st, 2015 [4:09:12 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _this SUCKS_

**Saturday, August 1 st, 2015 [4:58:49 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _i feel like i don’t say it enough_

**_Ian:_ ** _but i love u okay_

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, August 4 th, 2015 [1:44:12 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _found a song for u_

**_Mickey:_ ** _<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHoDAm9IXqM> _

**_Mickey:_ ** _i hate u_

**Tuesday, August 4 th, 2015 [3:01:32 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _i've been listenin to that song for hours_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and now i think i've got the lyrics down_

**_Mickey:_ ** _but it doesn’t matter bc it won’t help me will it_

**Tuesday, August 4 th, 2015 [4:22:45 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _u know that when i say i hate u i don’t mean it right_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i opposite of hate u_

**_Mickey:_ ** _which is probably why i do hate u_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fuck u gallagher_

**Tuesday, August 4 th, 2015 [5:05:30 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _i fucking love u_

**_Mickey:_ ** _but ur still an asshole_

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, August 13 th, 2015, [8:54:07 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _are we still swapping links?_

**_Ian:_ ** [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tgcc5V9Hu3g_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tgcc5V9Hu3g)

**_Ian:_ ** _i love you mickey_

 

* * *

 

Mickey was woken up by a Snapchat from Ian just after two a.m., which was inconvenient because he had gone to sleep about half an hour earlier, after having come home at midnight.

Mickey always had time for Ian, though, so he opened it, and was rewarded with a series of pictures of the sunrise. Damn early bird Ian Gallagher was. _“It looks so beautiful”_ the first one said, followed by, _“Wish you were here with me”_ and _“You’re better than a 1000 of these”_ on a third. The fourth made waking up worth it, because it was a selfie from Ian, the orange light making him glow beautifully. _“I miss & love you, babe.” _

‘Yeah, Ian,’ Mickey murmured, locking his screen and rolling over. ‘Me too.’

 

* * *

 

Ian was just about to go to sleep when he got the Snapchat notification. He knew Mickey had opened his from this morning, but he thought maybe Mickey had just decided not to reply. He had, apparently, just been waiting for sunset.

_“look at this gayass sunset bitch”_ said the first, and _“*~so beauty~*”_ on the second. The third was just a picture of Mickey’s hand flipping off the sunset, with the caption _“fuck u sun”_ , and Ian was not disappointed in the selfie Mickey sent of himself looking grumpy, while bathed in the dying rays of light. _“fuck this”_ was the last caption, and Ian couldn’t help but agree. This was fucking stupid.

Snapchats and Skype conversations, sad jerking off to each other jerking off, and absolute fucking _misery_. There had to be a point where they just decided to be happy again, but they were almost halfway through the shitfest of being separated, so they should easily be able to get through it.

Right?

* * *

 

**Saturday, August 29 th, 2015 [11:22:07 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _saw a guy that looked like u on the street today while i was getting food_

**_Ian:_ ** _thought u had come to see me_

**_Ian:_ ** _wrong, obviously._

**_Ian:_ ** _3 and a half months, mick._

 

* * *

 

Mickey was doodling while watching TV, sometime on a Tuesday afternoon. He wasn’t watching whatever the fuck was on his screen, and he wasn’t paying attention to his paper. He was getting rid of some restless energy, because God knows how much of _that_ he had built up in his system.

He was fidgety most of the time now when he wasn’t working, like a person going through withdrawals on their way to recovery.

Was he recovering? From what? Losing Ian? Mickey dismissed the thought and looked down to his paper. ‘Seriously?’ he said to absolutely no one.

Ian’s face, undetailed but unmistakably him, looked up at Mickey from the page.

Mickey sighed, grabbed his phone, and opened Snapchat.

 

* * *

 

Ian was at dinner with Ava and a few other people when his phone screen lit up.

‘Ooh, a Snapchat?’ Ava said, looking sneakily at his screen from her place beside him. ‘Who’s _milkymikhailovich_?’ she frowned and bit her lip. ‘Didn’t pronounce that right, did I?’

‘It’s Mickey, and don’t worry, I can’t pronounce it right either,’ Ian said, unlocking his phone. ‘It’s somewhat of a private joke between him and his sister that no one fucking knows what they’re saying.’

‘What?’

‘They speak Ukrainian to each other and think it’s funny I don’t understand it,’ Ian murmured.

‘Ukrainian, huh?’ Ava nudged him conspiratorially. ‘You never mentioned he was a super cute foreign guy.’

Ian laughed. ‘No. His mother was. Well, a woman. You know.’

‘Oh. Well. What’d he send you?’

‘Um,’ Ian held his finger on the little red square as Ava watched his screen intently. ‘That.’

‘Is that _you_?’

‘Yeah. “Whoops”, he says.’

‘He drew you?’

‘“Whoops”,’ Ian repeated.

‘Boy can draw,’ Ava said, sounding impressed, and going back to her food.

‘Yeah,’ Ian agreed. ‘He’s pretty amazing like that.’

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, September 6 th, 2015 [4:54:43 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _we need to talk soon mick_

**_Ian:_ ** _like_

**_Ian:_ ** _actual webcam talk_

**_Ian:_ ** _i miss u too much_

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, September 10 th, 2015 [3:12:08 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _happy 4 months_

**_Ian:_ ** _over halfway now!_

**_Ian:_ ** _not so weird for me to be counting down now :)_

**Thursday, September 10 th, 2015 [7:22:12 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _idk about u but i’ve been counting down since may 10_

**_Mickey:_ ** _it’s a little bit easier now than it was then tho_

**_Mickey:_ ** _bit easier to breathe_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i guess the end of the tunnel is near or whatever_

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, September 15 th, 2015 [10:07:57 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _i'm free saturday if u still wanna talk_

**_Mickey:_ ** _still miss u_

**Wednesday, September 16 th, 2015 [3:09:00 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _saturday it is_

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, September 19 th, 2015 [2:59:04 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _u there mickey?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i'm here_

**_Ian:_ ** _ready?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _gimme a sec to piss and i'm all yours_

**Saturday, September 19 th, 2015 [3:01:11 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _aight ready when u are_

**_[Call Incoming: Ian]_ **

****

‘Hey, are you there?’ Ian asked, watching the grey circle on Mickey’s picture spin around.

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ Mickey replied. ‘See me?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I see you.’

‘Okay,’ Ian said, as Mickey popped up on his screen. ‘I see you.’

Mickey smiled. ‘Hey there.’

‘He sounds adorable,’ Ava said quietly from Ian’s couch.

Ian didn’t say anything to her, just tilted his head and watched Mickey smile. ‘Mick, we need to talk.’

‘We are talking,’ Mickey said. His smile dropped when he saw Ian’s expression. It was hard to define, but it looked like he was grieving.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ian took a deep breath and hung his head in his hands. ‘Mickey…’

‘Ian… What’s going on?’

‘Mick,’ Ian said, struggling to keep his voice level. ‘You know how much I love you, right?’

Ian could pinpoint the exact moment that it clicked in Mickey’s head, because his look of concern changed instantly into an unreadable mask. ‘Okay,’ he said, shaking his head lightly. ‘Okay, I know what you’re doing here.’

‘Mickey, I’m –’

‘Ian Gallagher,’ Mickey said lowly. ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

‘You know this is best, though, right?’ Ian asked. ‘This doesn’t change how I feel about you, I just…’

‘You think this is better,’ Mickey completed his sentence. ‘You think it’s too hard and this will make it stop hurting.’

‘Mickey, please.’

‘Don’t you _“Mickey, please”_ me,’ Mickey said, shutting his eyes and facing away from the screen. He took a few moments, and a couple of deep breaths, before he looked back to the camera. ‘You know what? You’re right. I can fill in your entire fucking speech right now, and I agree.’

‘You do?’ Ian asked, not bothering to try and stop his voice shaking anymore.

‘Yup. We’re better off apart for now. This isn’t good for us, and it hasn’t been for a while, has it?’ Mickey asked.

‘No, Mickey –’

‘You still love me, I know,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I know.’

‘That won’t change, Mickey.’

‘Probably not.’

‘And you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Will you still love me?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Is there a point?’

‘In what?’

‘Is there a point in my loving you?’ Mickey asked, his façade beginning to crack.

‘There’s always a point, Mick,’ Ian said, wiping the tears harshly from his face.

‘Look, we’re in agreement here, okay? We’ll call it quits.’

‘For now. Temporary. Okay?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Maybe. I gotta go, Gallagher.’

‘Okay. I’m so sorry, Mickey. I love –’

Mickey hung up.

‘Ian?’ Ava said gently. ‘You okay?’

Ian shook his head furiously, and Ava got up to wrap her arms around his shaking shoulders.

 

* * *

 

_‘Mands.’_

‘Mickey?’ Mandy asked, in confusion. ‘What’s going on? Are you okay?’

_‘No, I’m not okay.’_

Mandy grabbed her bag and was out the door straight away. ‘What happened?’

_‘He ended it,’_ Mickey said, a sob coming through the phone. _‘Ian ended it.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a list of songs aka the youtube links they sent each other (in order) (in case you cbf opening them):  
> fineshrine - purity ring  
> gay pirates - cosmo jarvis  
> the lost get loud - electrik people  
> starlight - muse  
> this is what it feels like - armin van buuren feat. trevor guthrie  
> heroes - david bowie
> 
> but yeah *thumbs up* (not really)


	17. London Bridges, Part One: Iron and Steel

_She’s like the wind through my tree. She rides the night next to me. She leads me through moonlight, only to burn me with the sun. She’s taken my heart, but she doesn’t know what she’s done._

‘I feel her breath in my face, her body close to me. Can’t look in her eyes, she’s outta my _leaaague_!’ Mickey cried. ‘Just a fool to believe I have anything she needs. She’s like the wind.’

‘Jesus, Mickey!’ Mandy yelled, going over to Mickey’s iPod dock and turning the volume way down. ‘Are you trying to get yourself evicted? I could hear your damn music from the street!’

‘Am I just fooling myself that she’ll stop the pain?’ Mickey continued, waving his bottle of whiskey in the air, as he raised his arms to direct the question to Mandy. ‘Living without her, I’d go insane!’

Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘Can you at least stop listening to Patrick Swayze? I swear to God, you’ve been listening to this song for almost seven hours.’

‘Can’t look in her eyes, she’s outta my _leaaague_!’

‘God give me strength,’ Mandy muttered, turning the music off, and receiving a loud whine from her brother for her efforts. ‘Okay, it’s been like two days, and you haven’t eaten, or had anything to drink with a zero percent alcohol content. Get the fuck up, and shower your smelly ass.’

Mickey shook his head and stared up at her from his place against the wall. For the first time since Mandy had been acting as Mickey’s keeper, he seemed pretty damn lucid. ‘What’s the point?’ he asked.

‘To keep living your life,’ Mandy said, taking his bottle of whiskey and putting it on the bench. ‘What’s gonna make you feel better, Mickey?’

Mickey shrugged and looked down at his empty hands as Mandy sat in front of him. ‘I don’t think you wanna hear my answer to that.’

‘No, not really,’ Mandy sighed. ‘Okay. You know what I do after bad break ups?’

‘What?’

‘I do that womanly thing of changing my hair,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘You wanna change it up?’

‘To what?’

‘Bleach it. Shave it off. I don’t know.’

Mickey sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and hummed thoughtfully. ‘A’ight. Bleach it.’

‘Okay. You wanna watch _Lord of the Rings_ after? I got you some Pringles.’

‘You got me Pringles?’

‘Gotta get food into you somehow,’ Mandy muttered, scooping her brother up under the arms and pushing him towards the bathroom. ‘Sure you wanna bleach your hair?’

‘Might as well, right?’

‘Exactly.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, I know you’re sad, but you really need to take your meds,’ Ava said gently, holding the pills and a glass of water out to him.

Ian scowled at her, but took the pills and swallowed them down. ‘Wanna check my throat?’

‘Nope,’ Ava sat gingerly next to him on the bed. ‘Why did you do it? It’s clearly taking a toll on you.’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Because I’m your friend, and I don’t like seeing you hurting, idiot,’ Ava nudged him in the side. ‘Really.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Thought it would be better this way. That it would hurt less to be away from him if we weren’t together, you know?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Ava sighed. ‘Look, you love him, right?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘Then why the fuck did you break up with him?’

‘There’s still three months left of my placement here! It’s…’ Ian flopped onto his back. ‘It’s fucked, is what it is. I shouldn’t have taken this damn job. He told me it would be a death sentence for us.’

‘And?’

‘And what? He was fucking right,’ Ian pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. ‘Fucking Mickey saw this coming.’

‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ Ava asked. ‘Going to mope even _more_ now? Or are you going to crawl back to him and say you were a twat and hope he takes you back?’

‘Fuck, I don’t know,’ Ian groaned. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well,’ Ava patted his knee. ‘You’ve got some time to decide, because judging from his tone, he’s going to need a cool down period before you can talk to him without having your head blown off.’

‘God,’ Ian moaned. ‘I’m a fucking idiot, aren’t I?’

‘I’m going to say yes to that.’

‘Ugh, please kill me.’

‘Nope. If I kill you, then you have absolutely no chance to get back with him,’ Ava paused and made a thoughtful noise. ‘I don’t know how to get rid of a body, either, so that could be an issue.’

Ian snorted unattractively. ‘Talk to Mickey. He does.’

‘Really?’ Ava said interestedly. ‘Who exactly _is_ this Mickey guy?’

‘Not my boyfriend anymore, apparently.’

‘Yeah, well, you jumped off that bridge all by yourself, Ian.’

‘Don’t I damn well know it.’

 

* * *

 

‘Mandy, I really think you took advantage of me last night,’ Mickey said, staring into his mirror and tugging on his now blond hair. ‘Are you sure I agreed to this?’

‘Yup,’ Mandy said, lounging against the doorframe. ‘And then we watched _Lord of the Rings_ and you were the happiest little clam that ever did flap its tiny clam shell wings.’

Mickey looked at her askance. ‘What?’

‘Clams? They do that clap clap fly thing?’ Mandy said, demonstrating with her hands by putting her wrists together and moving her arms from side to side, clapping her hands as she did. ‘You know?’

‘I do now. How the fuck do _you_ know that?’

‘Probably the internet,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like I went to Hell in a hand basket, was put in a blender, then spat back out with blond hair,’ Mickey said, pushing past her out of the bathroom. ‘Thanks for asking.’

‘I meant with the whole Ian thing.’

Mickey’s face darkened as he sat on his couch. ‘Ian.’

‘Yeah. Tall, ginger, ridiculously hot?’ Mandy said. ‘Remember him? Or did you drink him out of recent memory?’

‘No,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and slid down into his couch. ‘I remember him, trust me.’

‘And? How are you doing on that front?’

‘I mean, I’d obviously really like him to retract his fucking statement, but I’m fucked off that he thought breaking up would be a good idea in the first place.’

‘Would you take him back if he asked?’

‘Of course I fucking would!’ Mickey cried. ‘Are you seriously asking me that?’

Mandy bit her lip. ‘What if…’

‘What if..?’ Mickey motioned for her to continue. ‘What if what?’

‘I mean… I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him for a few weeks, but what if he doesn’t _want_ to get back together?’

Mickey ground his teeth and set his jaw. ‘That’s not a possibility I want to think about.’

‘Maybe you should, I mean. You should consider it. If he doesn’t call you up and say, “Mickey, I made a huge mistake, I’m actually an idiot, and I think we should get back together because I love you still”, then you should… Y’know.’

‘I should what?’ Mickey asked, throwing his hands in the air. ‘I should go and revenge fuck other people?’

Mandy shrugged. ‘Best way to get over a break up. Other than hair changes.’

‘Fine,’ Mickey stood up and went into his bedroom, leaving Mandy temporarily confused about the rapid change of events. ‘I’m going to go out and find some fuck ugly guy, and I’m gonna ram my dick in his ass repetitively.’

‘Wait, what?!’ Mandy cried, jumping up from her spot on his armchair. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘Why the fuck not? You seem to think there’s no hope.’

‘I never said that!’ Mandy moaned. ‘Don’t go fuck some random, Mickey.’

‘I hate to break it to you, but my dick is attached to _me_ so _I’m_ making the decisions,’ Mickey opened his door and stood there, watching his sister expectantly. ‘I’m leaving, and you are too.’

‘Mick –’

‘I’m a free man, Mandy. Imma go fuck me some ass.’

‘It’s the middle of the afternoon, Mick.’

‘What makes you think I don’t already know someone up to it?’

‘Do you?’

Mickey shrugged and took his phone out to send a quick text. He didn’t say anything until he got a reply. ‘Apparently I’m so hot I have guys lining up to get fucked by me.’

Mandy sighed and gathered her stuff, sensing she was just flogging a dead horse by arguing with him. As she walked out of his apartment, Mandy couldn’t help but think what a massive mistake she had just made. Ian was gonna kill her when they got back together.

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, do you think this is a good idea?’ Ava asked, darting around behind him as he moved through his apartment.

‘Don’t see why not.’

‘You want to go pick up some random guy?’

‘Yup.’

‘Why?’

Ian stopped. ‘Because that’s exactly what Mickey would do.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know Mickey,’ Ian said, changing his shirt. ‘He’ll be out finding a guy he can pound his frustration into.’

‘So you want to do the exact same thing,’ Ava rolled her eyes. ‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Hmm. Good point,’ Ian went back to the living room and picked up his phone from where it had been on the coffee table.

Ava watched him send a quick text and drum his fingers against his thighs as he waited for a reply. ‘What did you do?’

‘Sent a text to Tom.’

‘Why?’

Ian huffed a laugh. ‘Did you know Tom was gay?’

‘Yeah…’

Ian nodded. ‘Did you know we used to date? He was in Chicago for a while for college, and we… yeah.’

‘Ian, no. I’m not letting you do this,’ Ava said adamantly. ‘You love Mickey, right? There’s hope, Ian. You broke up a week ago, and this isn’t going to help.’

‘Call it getting even.’

‘You don’t even know he’s out hooking up with someone!’

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘Ian,’ Ava whined. ‘Come on. Don’t do it.’

Ian shrugged. ‘He’s gonna be here in twenty minutes. If you still want to be here when he arrives, then go for it. Mickey’s voyeuristic tendencies have rubbed off on me.’

Ava shook her head as she picked up her bag. ‘I’m telling you right now – you’ll regret it.’

‘Fucking always puts me in a better mood, so I guess we’ll see.’

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, September 26 th, 2015 [4:45:38 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _i want u to be joking about all of this_

**_Mickey:_ ** _bc u_

**_Mickey:_ ** _ian gallagher_

**_Mickey:_ ** _cannot be serious_

**Saturday, September 26 th, 2015 [5:31:59 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _what the fuck were u thinkin?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _that it would get easier?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _well guess what asshole_

**_Mickey:_ ** _it got even harder_

**_Mickey:_ ** _bc now i know ur away_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and ur not comin back for me_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and i hate u for it_

**_Mickey:_ ** _now ur gone and not mine and it fuckin hurts_

**Saturday, September 26 th, 2015 [6:20:01 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _idek if ur still awake but i don’t care_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u need to tell me ur joking_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and that u still love me_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and u want me_

**_Mickey:_ ** _bc i can’t sit around waitin for ur ass to get back without a fuckin answer_

**Saturday, September 26 th, 2015 [6:57:44 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _go fuck urself gallagher_

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, are you going to check that?’ Tom asked, putting his bottle of beer back down on the table. ‘It sounds like someone wants your attention.’

‘Probably my sister or brother or something,’ Ian said quietly. ‘They can fuck off.’

‘I don’t think siblings would be quite as insistent.’

‘Jesus,’ Ian rolled his eyes and got up from the couch, maximising the Skype screen. _Mickey._ He read through the messages and put his head in his hands. ‘You need to go.’

‘But you said –’

‘No. I changed my mind,’ Ian said. ‘Get out.’

‘It’s almost midnight, Ian,’ Tom replied, gesturing at the living room windows.

‘Well spotted, it is,’ Ian nodded. ‘Get out.’

Tom made a noise of disgust and finished off his beer, before he stood up, swung his jacket back on, and showed himself to the door. ‘Maybe some other time?’ he asked hopefully.

Ian turned to him and narrowed his eyes. ‘Get out.’

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, September 26 th, 2015 [7:03:04 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm here mick_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm sorry_

**_Ian:_ ** _i’m so sorry_

**_Ian:_ ** _are u there?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i'm here_

**_Ian:_ ** _can i call u?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _dinner is cooking_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u have 5 minutes_

**_Ian:_ ** _mickey i would watch u have dinner_

**_Ian:_ ** _i don’t even care_

**[Call Incoming: Ian]**

‘Mickey, are you there?’ Ian asked quietly.

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ Mickey replied, stirred something around in the frying pan. ‘Did I wake you or something?’

‘Uh…’ Ian bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘No. I had a few people around.’ _I nearly fucked around on you._

‘Oh. Cool,’ Mickey grabbed a plate out of a cupboard and set it on the bench. He was quiet as he drained pasta and put some on the plate, still stirring the sauce in the pan.

‘Did you bleach your hair?’ Ian asked, trying to get some conversation flowing between them again.

Mickey’s hand instinctively flew up to the top of his head. ‘Yeah. Mandy got to me.’

‘Mandy convinced you to dye your hair?’

Mickey shot him a look as he put his sauce onto his pasta. ‘I wasn’t in the best frame of mind, Gallagher. Half a bottle of whiskey will do that to you.’

The smile on Ian’s face dropped and he nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry, Mick.’

Mickey said nothing, just raised an eyebrow and sat down at his table to start eating his food.

‘I don’t know why I’m doing all the apologising here, Mickey,’ Ian said helplessly, watching Mickey twirl spaghetti around his fork and shove it in his mouth. ‘Are you going to say _anything_?’

‘You said you would watch me eat,’ Mickey shrugged, licking sauce from the corner of his mouth.

‘Yeah, alright. But you said you agreed, Mickey.’

Mickey rolled his eyes as he chewed on another forkful of pasta. ‘Do you _seriously_ think I meant that?’

‘Didn’t you?’

Mickey shook his head. ‘Why the hell would I want to break up with you?’

‘Because I left you? I’m selfish and an asshole?’

‘Yeah, you are,’ Mickey agreed.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘And?’

‘Can we pretend this never happened?’ Ian asked tentatively. ‘Carry on like we were?’

‘Thought it “hurt too much” for you,’ Mickey said, somehow managing to pull off the _“I’m so fucked off at you”_ face with sauce on his chin.

‘Yeah, well. I’ve been pretty damn numb for the past few days,’ Ian said, leaning back in his chair. ‘At least when it hurts, I know I’m alive.’

‘How poetic.’

‘Mickey, come on. What do you want me to say?’

‘I don’t know. You keep talking and I’ll let you know.’

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘You’re really fucking difficult sometimes.’

Mickeys shrugged. ‘Know what you are?’

‘An asshole?’

‘A fucking pinecone,’ Mickey said, gesturing at Ian on his screen with his fork. ‘You look pretty sometimes and can be good for decorative purposes, and smell nice when you fucking burn.’

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know whether to be offended at that or not. I’m not just pretty, thank you very much.’

‘Yeah, you also don’t grow on fucking trees.’

‘I think that’s important to note,’ Ian nodded.

Mickey stopped eating his food and looked up to give Ian a rueful smile. ‘I’m not just going to forget you dumped me, Gallagher. I won’t pretend it didn’t happen, and I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt like fuck.’

‘I understand that, I do. Are we…’

‘Good? No.’

‘But, you know,’ Ian drummed his fingers against his desk. ‘We’re… not split?’

Mickey tilted his head and studied Ian. ‘You do this to me again…’

‘I get the gist of it,’ Ian nodded. ‘I’m so sorry. I love you.’

‘Get me a snow globe and I’ll think about accepting your apology.’

Ian dared to grin at Mickey. ‘So… we’re un-split?’

Mickeys shrugged. ‘You’ve got a lot of making up to do for that little stunt, but yeah. Un-split.’

Ian visibly sagged with relief. ‘Thank God.’

Mickey cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘I’m serious about that snow globe, though.’

Ian nodded. ‘I’ll get Ava to help me find one tomorrow.’

‘Who is this Ava chick? You keep mentioning her.’

‘She’s an assistant at the office. Good friend of mine now,’ Ian said. ‘I’ll get her to meet you one day.’

‘If you want.’

‘Speaking of, she wants to go for coffee tomorrow at like nine or something, so I should get to bed,’ Ian yawned. ‘But, um. I like your hair blonde.’

Mickey smiled and ran his hand through it. ‘Yeah, I don’t mind it.’

‘Keep it. We’ll talk tomorrow?’

‘If you want.’

‘Okay,’ Ian smiled. ‘Love you.’

‘Uh huh.’

Ian laughed and ended the call, leaving Mickey to eat his cooling dinner and consider the implications of his actions from the past few days, on what was now a rehashed relationship with Ian.

 

* * *

 

‘What about this one?’ Ava suggested, holding up a huge snow globe that she needed two hands to grasp.

‘Are you joking?’ Ian asked, looking between two tiny globes. ‘That’ll cost me more money to ship to Mickey than it would cost for me to buy a plane ticket and deliver it in person.’

‘You could do that,’ Ava said, putting the globe back down and flexing her fingers. ‘Or you could buy one of those tiny ones and send it back with some dick pics or something.’

The shop assistant, a middle aged woman, looked up from organising magnets and scowled at them, prompting Ian to give her an apologetic smile. ‘Ava, that’s what Snapchat is for. Or, y’know. Skype. Facebook’s picture attachment thing in messenger.’

Ava rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing like dick pics in the snail mail, though.’

Ian nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s true, but he’d probably do something weird, like frame them.’

‘He doesn’t have kids, right?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then there’s no risk of you being charged with exposing yourself to a minor,’ Ava shrugged, picking up one of the smaller globes that Ian had been dithering over, and putting it in his hand. ‘Get him that one and send him a few pictures of the trouser snake.’

‘You have a filthy, filthy mind, Ava.’

‘Yup. Now buy the thing and we can go have coffee.’

Ian rolled his eyes and bought the globe Ava suggested, and they quickly left the shop, probably much to the relief of the shop assistant. As they walked towards the small café that Ava was particularly fond of, she nudged him in the side and cleared her throat. ‘So what happened with Tom last night?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing, or nothing nothing?’

‘Nothing and a bit of something, which was quickly interrupted by Mickey, and is why I am now in possession of a snow globe for my delightful, tiny thug boyfriend,’ Ian said quickly.

‘Yeah, yeah. You can add as many words as you like to try and distract me,’ Ava huffed a sigh. ‘What happened though?’

‘Just… A bit of… you know. Mouth action.’

‘Mouth action?’ Ava repeated. ‘Didn’t get your ins, then?’

‘Thank God, no. I already feel shit enough as it is about sort of making out with some other guy. Imagine if I’d actually fucked him?’

‘You _made out_ with Tom?’

‘Mm… There was some groping.’

‘Your end or his?’

‘Uh… He groped my end?’

‘Ew.’

Ian shrugged. ‘I’ve never had any complaints about it, so… Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.’

‘Absolutely no thank you,’ Ava said, shaking her head. ‘Did you tell Mickey?’

‘Nope. And it’s going to stay that way. Nothing happened, he doesn’t need to know.’

‘I’m telling you right now – that is the _worst_ idea.’

‘What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Ava,’ Ian said. ‘He’s pissed off at me enough already. I don’t need to give him any more reason to hate me than he probably already has.’

‘Well, you did _dump_ the guy.’

‘It was a mutual –’

‘Don’t kid yourself,’ Ava said, holding up a hand to silence him. ‘This is a bad idea. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, September 30 th, 2015 [11:43:09 PM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _it’s been 4 and a half months_

**_Mickey:_ ** _and spotify is still suggesting your shit to me_

**_Mickey:_ ** _<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zt43vyqoRHY> _

**_Mickey:_ ** _have that_

**_Mickey:_ ** _manchild_

**Wednesday, September 30 th, 2015, [4:11:55 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _are we still swapping links?_

**_Ian:_ ** _<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ozqJfsepQI> _

**_Ian:_ ** _also_

**_Ian:_ ** _“manchild”?_

**_Ian:_ ** _i miss u_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm sorry_

**_Ian:_ ** _i feel like i can never say that enough_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm so so sorry_

**_Ian:_ ** _i love you xxx_

 

* * *

 

‘So you are back with orange boy?’ Svetlana said slowly, waving her bottle of beer at Mickey to confirm his statement.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded, sipping from his own bottle, and sitting beside her on his couch.

‘Why are you telling me, and not your sister?’

‘I’ve told her. I just missed out a vital part.’

‘And that is?’

‘Something you can’t tell Mandy, a’ight?’

Svetlana raised her eyebrows. ‘Secret from Mandy?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded and downed some more beer. ‘She’d have my head.’

‘Okay. I can keep secret.’

‘My life is probably depending on this.’

‘I understand this,’ Svetlana said slowly. ‘What is it?’

Mickey cleared his throat, looked away from Svetlana, and stared straight ahead. ‘I did something bad.’

‘This is not news,’ Svetlana said in a bored tone. When she caught Mickey looked down at his hands, she made a noise of understanding. ‘Oh.’

‘You understand, yeah?’

‘I understand. How bad?’

‘Bad,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘Like... Bad, okay? Bad.’

Svetlana nodded. ‘I see. While you were split from orange boy?’

‘Yeah. But it still happened, you know?’

‘Hmm.’

‘Not telling Mandy, right?’

‘No. Not telling Mandy.’

 

* * *

 

**Friday, October 9 th, 2015 [5:33:57 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _thought u would want to know that i got my info for my return flight etc_

**_Ian:_ ** _i get back on the 20th of december_

**_Ian:_ ** _so that’s 2 months, 11 days :)_

**_Ian:_ ** _and my fam is gonna be in ny for xmas_

**_Ian:_ ** _sorry bout that_

**_Ian:_ ** _excited tho!_

**_Ian:_ ** _can’t wait to see u xx_

**_Ian:_ ** _miss u_

**_Ian:_ ** _love u_

**_Ian:_ ** _still very sorry_

 

* * *

 

**Friday, October 16 th, 2015 [7:54:09 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _got ur snow globe :)_

**_Mickey:_ ** _the fuck is it_

**_Mickey:_ ** _like the lil thing in the thing_

**_Mickey:_ ** _????_

**Friday, October 16 th, 2015 [3:09:11 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _london tower bridge_

**_Ian:_ ** _ava made me get it for you_

**_Ian:_ ** _she wanted me to send u some dick pics via snail mail too_

**_Ian:_ ** _decided against that_

**_Ian:_ ** _but if u want dick pics u just gotta let me know ;)_

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, October 24 th, 2015 [5:18:55 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _u there?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _my dot is green_

**_Mickey:_ ** _yes i am here_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u wanna skype???_

**_Ian:_ ** _u wanna meet ava? :)_

**_Mickey:_ ** _sure_

**[Call Incoming: Ian]**

‘Where is he? I don’t see anything. And that’s a weird icon. What is that? Knuckle tattoos?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh. Interesting. Real?’

‘Very real.’

‘Yeah, hi, I can hear you,’ Mickey said loudly, interrupting whatever conversation Ian was having with this unfamiliar person.

‘Oh, hey, Mick!’ Ian said happily. ‘Your camera is off.’

‘So’s yours, asshole.’

‘Oh, shit,’ Ian murmured. ‘Better?’ he asked, as his icon changed to a live camera feed.

‘Yup. See me?’

‘Oh, there he is! He’s cute,’ the stranger said. ‘Blonder than I was led to believe.’

‘I know,’ Ian smiled. ‘You’re out of shot, come here.’

‘Am I?’ there was the sound of squeaky desk chair wheels, and a new person appeared on Mickey’s screen. A young woman, with masses of curly brown hair, tanned skin, and a nose ring by the looks of it. ‘Hi!’

‘Hey,’ Mickey greeted. ‘So you’re the infamous Ava?’

‘I am, I am,’ she nodded. ‘You’re the adorable, semi-foreign boyfriend, huh?’

Mickey raised his eyebrows and shot Ian an accusatory glance. ‘Semi-foreign?’

‘You’re Ukrainian, right?’ Ava said, tucking a section of hair behind her ear.

‘Uh, yeah. My mom.’

‘Speak any?’

‘ _Zvychayno_ ,’ Mickey shrugged.

Ava grinned. ‘He told me you did. I just wanted to hear it.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘’Course he told you. Can’t keep anything to himself, huh, Gallagher?’

Ian blushed, and Ava cackled beside him. ‘You’re so cute. You didn’t tell me he was _this_ cute, Ian.’

‘Didn’t think I needed to.’

‘So, what do you do, Mickey?’ Ava asked.

‘Uh…’ Mickey scratched his jaw. ‘I’m a mechanic, a waiter, and an artist.’

‘He’s really good,’ Ian said. ‘I showed you that picture he drew of me, right?’

‘The Snapchat?’ Ava nodded. ‘Super talented.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey smiled. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice drawing his stupid face.’

‘You love my stupid face.’

‘Not after that little stunt a few weeks ago,’ Mickey said, narrowing his eyes.

Ian sighed. ‘I know.’

‘So are you doing anything for Halloween next week?’ Ava asked, slicing through the tension that had suddenly soared in a matter of seconds.

‘Got no plans,’ Mickey shrugged.

‘Ian doesn’t either. You know what you should do?’

‘What?’ Ian asked suspiciously.

‘You two should get capes and spend some quality time together on here.’

Mickey’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. ‘Tell me you did not just say that.’

‘Nope. Good idea, right?’

‘Ava, oh my God,’ Ian said, putting his head in his hands. ‘Please don’t talk about my virtual sex life with my boyfriend _in front of my boyfriend_.’

‘Well, _I_ think it’s a good idea,’ Ava said, rolling her eyes. ‘Could be fun, right?’

‘I don’t want to discuss this right now,’ Ian announced. ‘Literally done.’

‘Seriously,’ Ava pressed. ‘You could theme it? Get some decorations?’

A grin spread slowly over Mickey’s face at Ian’s embarrassment, as the other man flapped his hands uselessly at Ava. ‘Okay, Mickey, we’re going.’

‘Imagine it, Mickey!’ Ava cried. ‘Capes? Masks? How _cool_!’

‘Bye, Mick!’ Ian said over the top of Ava. ‘We’ll talk!’

‘Okay,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Nice to meet you, Ava!’

‘You too!’ Ava grinned, giving him a thumbs up from behind Ian, who had put himself in front of her to prevent her from giving Mickey any ideas. ‘Think about it!’

‘Will do!’ Mickey nodded, right as Ian winked at him and ended the call. It left Mickey with a strange desire to do exactly what Ava suggested.

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, October 25 th, 2015 [2:07:57 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _do u want to?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _want to what_

**_Ian:_ ** _capes? halloween skype sex?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _depends how halloween ur talkin_

**_Ian:_ ** _idk maybe just masks and some background ~decorations~_

**_Mickey:_ ** _yeah aight_

**_Ian:_ ** _seriously?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u wanna skip out on some halloween cyber “lust and thrust” as u once called it????_

**_Ian:_ ** _if ur gonna call it lust and thrust then definitely not_

**_Mickey:_ ** _good_

**_Mickey:_ ** _u wanna say saturday at midnight for u, 7ish for me?_

**_Ian:_ ** _it’s a date :)_

**_Ian:_ ** _no creepy venetian masks okay_

**_Ian:_ ** _i am not here for that_

**_Mickey:_ ** _uh no_

**_Mickey:_ ** _no feathers either_

**_Ian:_ ** _what u got against feathers?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _no feathers gallagher_

**_Ian:_ ** _:( okay_

**_Ian:_ ** _it’s a date tho?_

**_Mickey:_ ** _yup_

**_Ian:_ ** _awesome xx_

**_Ian:_ ** _i look forward to it ;)_

**_Mickey:_ ** _oh i bet u do_

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, Mickey?’

_Jesus Christ._ Mickey slid out from under the car and looked up at the blond guy in front of him. ‘Cody.’

‘Are you busy on Saturday?’ Cody asked, lightly kicking the tyre of the car Mickey was working on.

_Saturday. Halloween._ ‘Yes,’ Mickey said, going straight back under the car.

‘I thought, maybe, if you weren’t, then you might want to go to a Halloween party with me?’

‘I’m busy.’

‘Are you doing something with someone else?’

‘Yes.’

‘You told me you weren’t seeing anyone,’ Cody said quietly. ‘Did you lie to me?’

Mickey exhaled deeply and calmly before he slid out again and stood up to face Cody. ‘Things change.’

‘So, what? You do… stuff with me, then get a boyfriend?’ Cody asked.

‘Look, I told you it was a one time thing,’ Mickey hissed. ‘I don’t want to date you.’

‘No, but you let me –’

‘I swear to God,’ Mickey said, subtly cracking his knuckles. ‘You breathe a word about what happened, or anything you _think_ you know about me, and you will regret it.’

‘I’m not going to say anything,’ Cody said, shuffling his weight between his feet. ‘I just… I thought it would’ve been more than that.’

‘Didn’t even have a snowball’s chance in Hell of that happening. Are we fucking done here? I have work to do.’

Cody nodded glumly. ‘Sorry for bothering you.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and went back under the car again.

‘Will you at least tell me who it is?’ Cody asked, apparently having crouched down next to Mickey.

‘None of your fucking business,’ Mickey muttered.

‘No, I suppose not,’ Cody agreed. ‘Well… I’ll be around.’

‘Uh huh.’

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, October 31 st, 2015 [7:00:01 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _mickeyyyyyyyy_

**_Ian:_ ** _time for seasonably appropriate cyber sex!_

**_Ian:_ ** _MICKEY HURRY UP_

**_Mickey:_ ** _JESUS I’M HERE_

**_Ian:_ ** _CAN WE DO THIS_

**_Ian:_ ** _I’VE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS FOR A WEEK_

**_Mickey:_ ** _FINE OKAY_

**_Ian:_ ** _GOOD_

**[Call Incoming: Ian]**

‘Got your mask on?’ Ian asked, fixing his own around his head.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey replied. ‘No “seasonably appropriate” decorations though.’

‘Me neither. Ava tried to talk me into getting some fake spider webs, or pumpkins or something,’ Ian said. ‘Decided against that.’

‘Good,’ Mickey nodded, as Ian popped up on his screen. ‘Oh my God, is that a ninja turtles mask thing?’

‘Yup. Why?’

‘Can you see me yet?’

‘Um…’ Ian watched his screen and laughed when Mickey popped up. ‘No way!’

‘Michelangelo, man,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘This is too weird.’

‘Agreed. Masks off?’

‘Masks off,’ Mickey nodded, yanking the piece of orange cloth from his eyes. ‘You ready?’

‘All we’re doing is jerking off at each other,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes and taking his mask off as well. ‘We’re not performing open heart surgery or something.’

Mickey grinned, and it made butterflies flutter helplessly in Ian’s stomach. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do. Move your laptop?’

‘I’m getting there, Gallagher, Jesus. Keep your pants on,’ Mickey said, pausing thoughtfully. ‘Actually, no. Keep your pants _off_.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Hilarious.’

‘Absolutely,’ Mickey agreed, pushing his laptop down the bed and wasting no time in slicking up his faux Ian dick.

‘Uh, Mick,’ Ian said cautiously. ‘Shouldn’t you like…’

‘Prepare?’ Mickey asked, pushing it into his ass and quirking an eyebrow at Ian. ‘Been there, done that.’

Ian frowned and started slowly jerking himself off. ‘That’s not very nice.’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey sighed, angling himself slightly so Ian could watch his ass swallow and clench around the foreign object. ‘Thought we could skip to the fun bit.’

‘How thoughtful,’ Ian said, his breath hitching as he ran his thumb across his slit. ‘Jesus Christ, Mickey.’

Mickey grinned and kept up a steady pace, moving the dildo in and out with one hand, and stroking himself with the other. ‘How many more days do I have to wait before your actual dick is in my ass?’

Ian sighed and bit his lip. ‘Forty. Please don’t make me do math while you’re using that.’

‘Square root of Pi?’ Mickey asked, rolling his eyes. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Huh?’

‘Get with the program.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Ian watched Mickey pause and wait for instructions. ‘Move around and find your prostate, I guess.’

Mickey nodded and incrementally changed his position until he was targeting his sweet spot like a heat seeking missile. ‘Now what?’

‘Keep going. Fuck yourself faster, but don’t come, alright?’

‘Fine,’ Mickey nodded. ‘You need to stop stroking yourself, a’ight? Focus on the head.’

‘You’re mean,’ Ian moaned, focusing on the tip of his dick, as Mickey ordered. ‘Take your hand off yourself.’

‘You want me to come untouched, huh?’

‘Untouched as off now,’ Ian nodded.

‘A’ight,’ Mickey sighed, screwing his eyes shut and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘God, I’m close. Go back to your regular jerking off, I don’t care.’

Ian leaned back in his seat and started moving his hand back up and down himself again. ‘Fuck yourself faster.’

‘Fuck,’ Mickey muttered, speeding up a bit. ‘Ian, Jesus.’

‘Shit, Mickey,’ Ian gasped. ‘I’m close. Come when you want.’

‘God fucking Christ Almighty,’ Mickey gasped, shooting up across his stomach, sending Ian over the edge as well. He pulled the dildo gingerly out and tossed it away somewhere.

They stayed where they were, catching their breaths, until Ian said quietly, ‘I could get used to seasonably appropriate cyber sex.’

‘Glad you enjoyed it,’ Mickey sighed, enjoying his post orgasm haze. ‘Hopefully next time it won’t be cyber.’

Ian laughed. ‘Oh. Right.’

Mickey flopped his head lazily to Ian on the screen and grinned at him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘Everything.’

Ian nodded. ‘It’s okay.’

‘I love you, you know.’

‘I know.’

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, November 5 th, 2015 [1:06:55 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _forgot to tell you_

**_Ian:_ ** _i really enjoyed our halloween plans ;)_

**_Ian:_ ** _would not object to a repeat?_

**_Ian:_ ** _be better to have seasonably appropriate ACTUAL sex tho_

**_Ian:_ ** _so maybe we can wait until xmas_

**_Ian:_ ** _bc i'll be back!_

**_Ian:_ ** _THANK CHRIST_

**_Ian:_ ** _i miss u still so much xx_

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, November 15 th, 2015 [9:34:43 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _ay wtf do u want for xmas_

**_Mickey:_ ** _me and mands are doin xmas shoppin soon_

**_Mickey:_ ** _so???? idek man_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i’m not gonna give u any ideas bc u have good taste when it comes to me_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i mean obviously_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i am pretty fuckin great_

 

* * *

 

**Friday, November 20 th, 2015 [2:18:00 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _1 month!_

**_Ian:_ ** _30 days!_

**_Ian:_ ** _SO SOON_

**_Ian:_ ** _still miss the fuck outta u_

**_Ian:_ ** _literally and figuratively_

**_Ian:_ ** _but i suppose it’s more bearable now_

**_Ian:_ ** _i love you xxx_

 

* * *

 

‘Mickey?’

Mickey slowly turned around from facing inside his locker to be met with Cody. Kid had been stalking him since their… mishap. ‘What?’

‘What do you want for Christmas?’ Cody asked, leaning against the locker next to Mickey’s.

‘Nothing,’ Mickey replied, going back to his things.

‘You know,’ Cody started. ‘I’m starting to think you don’t have a boyfriend, and that you just used me.’

‘I did.’

Cody blinked. ‘So you _don’t_ have a boyfriend?’

‘I do.’

‘Where is he?’ Cody asked, looking around like Ian might jump out from somewhere and yell _“Surprise!”_

‘Not here,’ Mickey slammed his locker door. ‘Anything else?’

‘No, I –’

‘Great. Bye,’ Mickey said, swinging his jacket on and leaving to go home. God, he made a mistake in picking that one.

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, if you’re not busy next week, I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink?’ Tom asked, cornering Ian as he prepared to leave the office.

‘I’m busy,’ Ian said. ‘Plans with Ava.’

‘Huh?’ Ava asked, catching the tail end of their conversation. ‘Plans?’

‘Plans,’ Ian repeated, giving her a “ _Help me out here!”_ look.

‘Oh,’ Ava nodded, catching on. ‘Yeah, we have plans.’

‘For the whole week?’ Tom asked doubtfully.

‘He leaves in a couple of weeks. Taking all the time I can get,’ Ava shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

Tom nodded. ‘I was hoping to do the same thing.’

‘Well, he’s mine,’ Ava said cheerfully, looping an arm through Ian’s and pulling him away towards the elevator. ‘What was that?’ she hissed, as soon as the door was safely shut and they started going down.

‘I don’t want to hang out with _Tom_ ,’ Ian said, like it was the most obvious answer.

‘So do we have to hang out to keep with the story?’

‘I’m not opposed,’ Ian smiled. ‘Gonna miss you.’

‘Yeah,’ Ava kicked his ankle lightly. ‘Same here.’

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, December 6 th, 2015 [6:54:22 AM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _2 weeeeeeeeeeeks_

**_Ian:_ ** _14 daaaaaaaaaays_

**_Ian:_ ** _mickeyyyyyyyyyyyy_

**_Ian:_ ** _i’m going to vomit_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm so excited i can’t even????????_

**_Ian:_ ** _i can’t actually put it into words_

**Sunday, December 6 th, 2015 [10:03:44 AM]**

**_Mickey:_ ** _i'm looking forward to it :)_

**_Mickey:_ ** _especially the seasonably appropriate non-cyber sex_

**_Mickey:_ ** _miss havin a real dick to put in my ass_

**Sunday, December 6 th, 2015 [1:21:43 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _nice to know u only miss my dick_

**_Ian:_ ** _i suppose that’s fair tbh_

**_Ian:_ ** _i only really miss ur ass_

**_Ian:_ ** _it’s a very nice ass tho so i suppose i have just cause_

**_Ian:_ ** _still_

**_Ian:_ ** _14 days!_

 

* * *

 

**Friday, December 11 th, 2015 [3:56:40 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _fuck i left packing too late again_

**_Ian:_ ** _i'm gonna be without most of my stuff bc i haven’t sent it back yet_

**_Ian:_ ** _i have a week to pack EVERYTHING_

**_Ian:_ ** _whoops_

**_Ian:_ ** _ah well_

**_Ian:_ ** _procrastination is one of my main strengths after all_

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, December 19 th, 2015 [6:47:09 PM]**

**_Ian:_ ** _I FLY HOME TOMORROW MICK_

**_Ian:_ ** _I WILL BE IN NYC IN LESS THAN 16 HOURS_

**_Ian:_ ** _I’M ACTUALLY GOING TO VOMIT_

**_Ian:_ ** _I LEAVE FOR THE AIRPORT IN 4 AND A HALF HOURS_

**_Mickey:_ ** _:)_

**_Mickey:_ ** _fly safe gingerbread_

**_Mickey:_ ** _see you later_

**_Mickey:_ ** _i love you xx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see? this chapter wasn't too bad _was it_? just don't jump to conclusions re: ~cheating~. they had broken up, so technically it ISN'T cheating, though they are both viewing their extracurricular activities as such. don't go off your nuts at me about it, okay? okay.
> 
> first song i mentioned (aka the one mickey was wailing to) is she's like the wind by patrick swayze, better known as _that song_ from dirty dancing.  
>  youtube link songs:  
> campfire - satellite stories  
> on our way - the royal concept  
> ukrainian (even though this was in a previous chapter but whatevs):  
> zvychayno - of course
> 
> [ayyyyyyyy](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/).


	18. London Bridges, Part Two: Wood and Clay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: shit hits the fan. may not (?) be suitable for reading at school/work/public places, unless you're okay with crying in front of strangers.

When Mickey arrived at Mandy’s apartment to pick her up and go to the airport, he was greeted by Svetlana, who gave him a smile and let him in. ‘Mandy is very happy.’

‘She’s not the only one,’ Mickey replied, tugging on the sleeves of his coat nervously. ‘The fuck is she doing?’

Svetlana rolled her eyes. ‘Impromptu concert for one. You look fine, by the way.’

‘Thanks,’ he nodded. ‘Think it’s safe to approach her?’

‘It’s your head,’ Svetlana said, holding up her hands in surrender.

Mickey sighed and went down the hall of their apartment towards the bathroom, where he could hear Mandy singing loudly. ‘Mandy?’

‘Fuck off, I’m walking on sunshine!’ Mandy cried, whipping around and swinging her hairbrush at Mickey.

‘Bitch, hurry the fuck up. We’re gonna be late.’

‘And don’t it feel _good_!’ Mandy replied, throwing her hairbrush at her bed and putting her hair up into some weird twist thing. ‘Okay, let’s go, brother mine!’

Mickey shook his head and left, giving Svetlana a parting wave and leading the way out of the apartment and to where he had parked Ian’s car. ‘Can you calm down?’

‘Calm down?’ Mandy asked, raising her eyebrows. ‘Are you serious? You need to un-calm.’

‘No, I don’t. Ian wouldn’t thank me for being as hyper as you and crashing his car.’

‘How many times did you drive the getaway car? I think you’re safe as far as crashing while running on adrenaline goes.’

‘Yup, well, don’t wanna test that theory,’ Mickey shrugged, as he pulled into traffic and started making his way towards the airport.

It was quiet for a while, until they were a few minutes away from the airport, and Mandy said, ‘Mickey, I got a text from Fiona. They’re already at there and wanna make sure that we’re not lost.’

‘No, we’re not lost,’ Mickey yawned. ‘See? Airport.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Mandy rolled her eyes and sent a quick reply to Fiona. ‘Didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?’

Mickey looked at her from the corner of his eye as he started searching for a park. ‘What do you think?’

Mandy grinned. ‘Pissing yourself with excitement yet?’

‘Wearing an adult diaper just in case,’ Mickey said sarcastically.

‘Hilarious. Incontinence is not a laughing matter, Mickey,’ Mandy said earnestly. ‘You’re at serious risk of losing control of your butthole in your later life from all the ploughing it takes.’

‘I’m what?’

‘No, I don’t know. Probably not.’

‘Okay, we don’t need to talk about this right now.’

‘Agreed. Park!’ Mandy yelled, pointing emphatically at a spot that had just opened up. ‘Get the fuck in there!’

‘I’m in!’ Mickey cried, as he swerved into the vacated space.

‘Yes!’ Mandy said, triumphantly high fiving her brother. ‘Okay, let’s go find the Gallaghers and collect your boyfriend.’

As Mickey and Mandy got out of the car, locked it, and started heading towards the arrivals, Mickey stopped and took a deep breath.

‘Mickey? You alright?’

‘I’m...’ _Gonna be fucking sick._ ‘I’m fine.’

‘Sure?’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey nodded and shook off the nausea roiling in his stomach that was forcing bile into his throat. He pushed it down and tried his best to ignore it as he and Mandy entered the building, which was near on absolute chaos. Five days before Christmas, and people were all rushing around with a sense of purpose Mickey wasn’t entirely sure he was displaying. _Ian’s going to be here. Home._ Mickey took a few more deep breaths and focused on that thought.

‘There they are!’ Mandy said, tugging Mickey’s arm and directing him to where the group of Gallaghers were standing near an arrivals board.

‘Hey!’ Fiona greeted, hugging Mandy tightly. ‘Long time no see.’

‘Has Ian’s flight landed yet?’ Mandy asked, stepping back and grabbing Mickey’s arm again. He looked like he was about to faint.

‘Not yet. It’s on track to land in a couple of minutes though,’ Fiona smiled. ‘Hi, Mickey.’

Mickey nodded in greeting and concentrated on keeping oxygen moving into his lungs.

‘You okay?’ Fiona asked.

Mickey nodded. ‘Fine. Just… breathing. You’re missing a couple of people?’

‘Yeah, Debbie and Jimmy went to Ian’s apartment already to start on dinner. And to clean a few things. Dust, mostly. I think Debbie said something about fluffing pillows,’ Fiona shrugged and glanced at the arrivals board again. ‘Okay, he’s landed.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Mickey muttered, clutching at Mandy to anchor himself so he didn’t float away. (He would never admit that though. He was Mickey Milkovich, not some love struck teenage girl seeing her boyfriend at school after a weekend apart.)

The group of Milkoviches and Gallaghers made their way to the gate Ian would be appearing from, with the Gallaghers and Mandy somehow managing to be quite calm, but then again – the Gallaghers were used to going months at a time without seeing Ian now, and Mandy didn’t spend nearly as much time with him as Mickey did.

To Mickey, it felt like part of his system had been ripped out, and he hadn’t been fully functioning, but now that part was being returned and repaired. The anticipation was trying its hardest to overwhelm Mickey, but he refused to swoon in the face of Ian. He had been waiting seven fucking months for this, and it had been a fucking horrible wait, so he was fucking well going to be conscious for it, even if it killed him.

It felt like years until Ian’s distinctive orange hair appeared from the gate and Mickey damn near sobbed at the vibrancy of it, after living with a faded version through his screen for so long. His heart might’ve stopped when Ian scanned the crowd to find him, he wasn’t sure, but it almost beat its way through his sternum when Ian cleared past the barriers, and, fuck it, Mickey lost whatever self-respect and inhibitions he had left.

He was half convinced his life had become a chick flick, and the only thing that would’ve made the moment any cheesier would’ve been _At Last_ playing through the intercom. Who gave a shit though, because he was running – weaving, more like, because there were so many fucking people – to Ian, and Ian was already fucking crying, but Mickey _refused_ to cave and join him in a literal puddle of emotion.

Every fucking step he took towards Ian felt more painful than the last, because they were so close, yet still so fucking _far,_ and then Mickey ran into Ian, and Ian’s arms were around him, and it felt like a floodgate had been opened, and every bit of tension, or pain, or worry Mickey had stored up was washed away by Ian’s mere fucking presence. They didn’t even need to say or do anything, because they weren’t broken anymore, and that was enough for the moment.

They didn’t break apart even when Ian’s family joined them. Ian had his arms wrapped tightly around Mickey, and his face pressed to his hair, and Mickey was happy to be enveloped by him. Mickey had shoved his face into Ian’s shoulder, and screwed his fists tightly into his shirt, and wasn’t planning on giving up his position until he had no other option.

Mandy seemed to be the first to realise this, because she just awkwardly hugged them both. ‘Hey, Ian.’

Ian nodded and cleared his throat, then lifted his head to say, ‘Hey.’

Mickey almost started sobbing when Ian spoke, and the rumbles that he felt through Ian’s chest made him suddenly remember that, _oh yeah_ , Ian was home now. ‘I missed you,’ Mickey said quietly.

Ian dropped a kiss to Mickey’s hair. ‘Yeah, missed you too, Mick.’

‘You wanna go?’

Ian nodded. ‘Miss my dog.’

Mickey laughed and leaned up to kiss Ian quickly, catching him by surprise. ‘You should say hi to your family.’

‘Probably,’ Ian agreed, reluctantly letting Mickey go, but continuing to grasp his hand as he was swamped by his family.

Mickey couldn’t find it in himself to care that he and Ian were holding hands right now, especially at the airport, of all places. As they finally left the damn terminal and started towards where they had parked Ian’s car, Ian said quietly, ‘I’m sorry.’

Mickey squeezed his hand. ‘You can stop apologising now.’

‘Are you sure?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah.’

Ian smiled and brought their hands up so he could kiss the back of Mickey’s. ‘I love you.’

‘I know.’

 

* * *

 

On the way back to Ian’s apartment, Mandy took over the driving, so Ian and Mickey could sit in the back, because it seemed like they were completely unwilling to separate for even a few seconds. Mandy would’ve rolled her eyes at how they were behaving, but she got it. She totally got it. Seeing someone you loved after so long was like a breath of cool air after being in a stifling hot room – so she left them to it.

They weren’t even talking, or maybe they were, but it was just too soft for her to hear. They seemed to be too involved in each other, and she doubted they would even care if she saw them making out in the rear view mirror, but there were too many lingering touches and meaningful looks, so she knew that wouldn’t be a possibility right now.

No doubt that would all come to a head once everyone had left Ian’s apartment.

Once they arrived back at his apartment, the first thing Ian did was dump his suitcase in his room, and that was all he really had time for, before Radar was on him like a ton of bricks, winding himself around Ian’s legs and whining up at him, until he came down to Radar’s level, and received a face full of excited dog for his efforts.

Mickey hovered close by, and Radar gave him a quick once over as well, but quickly returned to Ian, and refused to leave his side, following Ian to go see Debbie in his kitchen. There were a few tears – not many, because this wasn’t exactly a new experience for the Gallaghers – before Debbie was complaining about how she had to go out and find a grocery store, because Ian’s apartment was bare of food.

Ian went around and gave his family members (and Mandy) another hug each before he pulled Mickey down to his bedroom and shut the door, pushing him against it, and running his hands over every inch of Mickey that he could, while they kissed eagerly.

Mickey moved his hands down to Ian’s belt, but Ian’s long fingers stopped him. ‘Trust me,’ Ian murmured, after Mickey accidentally let out an impatient whine. ‘You have no idea how much I want to. I think it would be best to wait until after my family has left, though, because once we’re on that bed, we’re not leaving it for at least twenty four hours.’

Mickey groaned and leaned his head against Ian’s shoulder. ‘You’re mean.’

‘Mick,’ Ian said softly. ‘You don’t like my dog seeing your dick, so do you really want everyone out there to hear us fucking?’

‘That’s different.’

‘Not really.’

‘Ugh,’ Mickey dropped his hands. ‘Fine. You better make it up to me.’

Ian laughed and kissed Mickey deeply. ‘I’ve got some candles lying around somewhere.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Now you’re speaking my language.’

‘I got your Christmas present, by the way,’ Ian said, as he and Mickey continued placing light kisses on each other. ‘Is it okay if I give it to you later? A few days early?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Is it the same kinda thing as last year?’

‘Nope. No vibrating butt plug this year.’

‘Damn. I suppose that would be okay then.’

‘For the record,’ Ian added. ‘It’s not something you can put up your ass.’

‘Okay, that’s just cruel,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Don’t know if I want it now.’

‘I don’t know if you’ll want it either, actually. But you said I have good taste, so I figure it’s a safe choice.’

‘I’m excited now.’

‘You should be. I am.’

Mickey smiled and went to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

‘Ian, Mickey,’ Fiona said loudly. ‘If you’re not busy in there, dinner is ready.’

Ian sighed and opened the door. ‘We’ll be right there.’

Fiona nodded and went down towards Ian’s kitchen, leaving them to catch up.

‘Later,’ Ian promised, tugging a reluctant Mickey out of his bedroom, and heading in the same direction as Fiona had gone.

They sat at the table, and started helping themselves to the veritable feast that Debbie had whipped up – roast vegetables and chicken, a salad, and a whole bunch of other stuff that Mickey wasn’t entire sure of the contents of, but ate regardless.

About halfway through the meal, after everyone had pretty much finished up their pestering of Ian about London (there wasn’t much to say; he had kept everyone pretty well informed over the past few months), Ian cleared his throat. ‘Okay, everyone. I have something to say.’

The talk at the table died down and the collective attention was redirected to Ian.

‘I finished writing my book,’ Ian smiled. ‘Finally. I passed it around to a few different publishers in London, and I’m going to do the same here.’

‘That’s great, Ian!’ Fiona grinned. ‘Last time you were telling me how everything was eluding you.’

‘Yeah. It was,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Found my groove.’

‘Well, we’re very proud of you, so keep us in the loop,’ Fiona said.

‘You didn’t tell me,’ Mickey said, elbowing Ian in the ribs.

‘Surprise?’ Ian said, smiling sheepishly. ‘And that’s not your Christmas present, by the way.’

‘Oh, that’s good to know?’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘You want these beans?’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Ian said, taking them from Mickey’s plate. ‘Why did you even take beans if you don’t like them?’

‘Fuck if I know. Because you like them, probably.’

‘Aw. You’re cute.’

‘Yup. I’m stealing some of your carrots.’

‘Go for it,’ Ian leaned close to Mickey’s ear and whispered, ‘Not the only long orange thing that’s gonna be in you tonight.’

Mickey nearly choked and looked accusingly at Ian as his eyes watered and he swallowed his bite of carrot. ‘You gotta work on your dirty talk, Gallagher.’

‘I’m not _that_ bad.’

‘You’re not that great, either.’

‘Fuck off.’

Ian laughed. ‘Eat your carrots, Mick.’

‘Eat your beans, Gallagher,’ Mickey mocked, shooting Ian a grin. ‘Not the only round thing you’ll have in your mouth tonight.’

Ian groaned. ‘That was worse than mine.’

‘It was on par, I think.’

‘I think you’re an idiot.’

‘I think you are also an idiot.’

‘I think you’re _both_ fucking idiots,’ Mandy interrupted. ‘Can you guys stop with your innuendos?’

Ian and Mickey stopped their bantering and looked at the rest of the table, where everyone else had paused in their eating and conversation to watch them flirt horribly. ‘Oh,’ Ian murmured. He glanced at Mickey, and the pair of them burst into laughter.

 

* * *

 

The second that Mandy and the Gallaghers left Ian’s apartment, he and Mickey were on each other like moths to flames. They moved into Ian’s bedroom, mouths never parting, and as Mickey felt Ian’s hands on his belt, he was struck with an overwhelming feeling of guilt about what had happened between him and Cody.

‘Ah, fuck,’ Mickey gasped, his eyes flying open, and his hands moving of their own accord to grab Ian’s. ‘Stop, stop. Wait.’

‘Mickey?’ Ian asked, instantly concerned by Mickey’s behaviour. ‘Are you okay?’

Mickey took a deep breath and considered lying and saying _“Yeah, I’m fine, fuck me into oblivion!”_ But he couldn’t do it. Ian was the only person he didn’t want to keep something from. He shook his head and sat on the edge of Ian’s bed. ‘I can’t.’

‘What?’ Ian asked, straightening out his shirt and sitting beside Mickey. ‘Are you okay? What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t lie to you.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

Mickey exhaled deeply and seriously considered putting his head between his legs, because he was feeling pretty fucking faint right about now. ‘Cody.’

‘Cody?’ Ian frowned. ‘From the garage? What does Cody…’ Ian cocked his head and studied the way Mickey was acting, and it clicked. ‘Oh.’

Mickey scratched the back of his neck and looked away from Ian. The disappointment on his face wasn’t something Mickey wanted etched on his retinas. ‘Yeah.’

‘What happened?’

‘Ian, I –’

‘Mickey, please,’ Ian said softly.

‘Once. A couple of days into our… break,’ Mickey sighed. ‘I thought we were done.’

‘What happened?’ Ian repeated levelly.

‘He blew me. We…’ Mickey trailed off. ‘I’m sorry.’

Ian nodded and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he processed the fact that he had been right about Mickey wanting to pound his frustration into some poor guy. Then again, it was Cody. He had been pining after Mickey for so long, he probably thanked Mickey for making it painful to walk for a few days.

‘Are you mad?’ Mickey asked quietly, daring to look over to Ian, and being surprised when he didn’t see disappointment as he thought he would. ‘Ian?’

Ian scratched his jaw and shook his head slowly. ‘Not particularly.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not mad at you,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Mad at me, actually.’

Mickey’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. ‘What?’

‘I thought you would go out and fuck someone, but part of me was still expecting you not to. I… I kinda did the same.’

‘You did the same?’

‘Well… We didn’t fuck, actually. There was a lot of groping and mouth stuff. I mean, he blew me as well, but… I got your messages on Skype right before we were going to… you know.’

Mickey nodded slowly, and somehow knowing Ian had gone out and done the same made him feel a bit better. ‘Who was it?’

‘Huh?’

‘Who was it?’ Mickey asked. ‘The guy?’

Ian bit his lip. ‘Tom.’

Mickey’s stomach dropped. ‘The twig guy?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘And, uh –’

‘He’s your ex, isn’t he?’ Mickey interrupted. ‘I knew I’d heard the name before.’

‘Yeah. Ex,’ Ian confirmed.

‘Well,’ Mickey stood up and started pacing. ‘That’s just great.’

‘What?’

‘You could’ve gone out and picked _anyone_ , any fucking gay guy in a hundred mile fucking radius, and you get your _ex_ over for a booty call?’

‘We were split, Mickey. Would you be less pissed off if it was some random guy?’

‘Yeah, probably!’

‘I don’t know why this is so bad, I mean, I made out with and got blown by an ex, but it’s okay for you to go and fuck your co-worker?’ Ian shook his head. ‘Double fucking standards.’

‘It’s not double standards, Ian, because I have no fucking romantic history with Cody, and it’ll never be anything more than a one night stand!’ Mickey cried, throwing his hands in the air. ‘You _know_ this Tom guy. If you wanted anything less than a quick fuck, you would’ve gone to find a random guy. Instead you call _him_?’

Ian blanked for a response for a few minutes, and watched Mickey fume quietly in front of his wardrobe. ‘You think I called Tom because I wanted to jump straight from you to him?’

‘Yes, that is _exactly_ what I think,’ Mickey replied. ‘He probably started wanting to hang out with you a lot, right? Wanted to go for _drinks_ drinks? Hope to get your dick in his ass again? Tell me I’m wrong.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ Ian conceded.

‘Yup, exactly. He wants more, and you would’ve given it to him.’

‘No, I –’

‘Ian, I know you so well, don’t even _try_ to tell me you wouldn’t have,’ Mickey pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes to stop the burn he could feel building up. ‘You’re too kind and sweet and you would’ve.’

Ian sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘What do you want to do, Mickey?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Neither of us could keep it to ourselves and wait a few days to see if we could find our ways back to each other,’ Ian said quietly. ‘We both just… went out and found a willing participant, you know?’

Mickey exhaled deeply through his nose and leaned against Ian’s wall. ‘What are you trying to say, Ian?’

‘I’m trying to say… If we only waited a couple of days to go fuck other people, maybe we don’t…’ Ian trailed off. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Maybe we don’t love each other as much as we think we do,’ Mickey finished for him. ‘How the fuck do we even know what love is? Neither of us had great examples growing up.’

‘I don’t know, Mickey.’

‘I don’t either,’ Mickey said. ‘Maybe…’

‘Maybe, what?’

‘Maybe we should take some time. Figure ourselves out. See if we’re really as strong as we think we are.’

‘You want to take a break? From us?’ Ian clarified. ‘Mickey –’

‘No grudges held about whatever happens,’ Mickey continued, ignoring Ian. ‘A month or two. Maybe three. We lasted three apart, right?’

‘Four,’ Ian corrected. ‘You want to do this?’

‘Not really,’ Mickey admitted. ‘I think we need to… clear the air, or something. Get everything out of our systems.’

Ian chewed on his bottom lip as he thought. Three months wouldn’t be too hard. He and Mickey would be in the same city, at least. They could always run back to each other here. ‘Three months to figure out where we’re at.’

Mickey nodded slowly. ‘Three months, no grudges held.’

‘Three months.’

‘One rule, though.’

‘Mm?’

‘Use condoms.’

Ian huffed. ‘Yeah.’

Mickey pushed himself off the wall. ‘March twenty, we’ll get together and see how we feel.’

‘If we’re not back together by then,’ Ian said hopefully, looking up to Mickey.

Mickey gave him a small smile. ‘If not.’

‘Okay,’ Ian agreed after a few minutes. ‘March twenty.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey said softly, turning and opening Ian’s bedroom door. ‘Bye –’

‘Mickey?’ Ian called, getting up off the bed and going to his bag of carry on from the plane. ‘Do you want to see your Christmas present before you go?’

‘I’m not going to take it,’ Mickey warned, pausing in the doorway.

‘I know,’ Ian said, standing and throwing a small box at Mickey. He watched the other man open it and said quietly, ‘I was gonna ask you to marry me.’

Mickey looked down to the silver band and shut the box, throwing it back to Ian. ‘That’s not even the worst part.’

‘It’s not?’ Ian asked, turning the box in his hands.

‘No,’ Mickey shook his head and walked backwards from the room. He disappeared for a few moments and came back, coat in hand. ‘Worst part is that I would’ve said yes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that worse than ch. 16? ~~i've been waiting to unleash the last few sentences for months.~~ okay yeah. from here on, i have _very little_ idea of what i'm doing with my plot, so apologies in advance bc it will probably be really messy, so updates will probably take longer. (not 3 chapters in a week, and two within 24 hours holy fucking shit.) anyway, this hit 10k hits?? and i'm kinda wowzies. also, this chapter will also officially push this over the 100k words mark! which makes this my greatest achievement ever! omg!
> 
> [come hmu](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/).


	19. No Glory In The Process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've heard back from one of my lovely betas (thank you btw!) and going on just her word, i hope this should clear the air from any confusion caused by the last chapter. (if it hasn't, then (lol) feel free to comment and let me know and i'll keep chipping away at it to get it gone)

‘So let me get this right,’ Ava said slowly, tenting her fingers and resting her chin on them contemplatively. ‘You and tiny thug cutie pie boyfriend, Mickey.’

Ian raised an eyebrow at her wording but nodded. ‘Yup.’

‘You’re on a soul searching break to “get things out of your system”, namely any urge to screw other people,’ Ava continued. ‘Because you and Tom got to the _verge_ of fucking, but Mickey actually did the do with a guy he works with.’

‘Right, Cody.’

‘And you were going to propose if all of this hadn’t gone down.’

‘Correct.’

‘But you’re not mad at him for sleeping with Cody.’

‘No.’

‘And he’s only pissed at you because you decided to booty call an ex?’ Ava hummed thoughtfully. ‘I think you’re in a tiny pickle.’

‘A tiny pickle?’ Ian repeated, his voice going up a couple of octaves. ‘You call this a _tiny_ _pickle_? I was going to _propose_ and he would’ve said _yes_ and now we’re on a fucking _break_!’

‘Yes, I understand that, Ian –’

‘A break so we can _fuck other people_!’

‘Ian –’ Ava tried again.

‘Ava!’ Ian ran his hand agitatedly through his hair. ‘I don’t want to fuck other people!’

‘Yes, I –’

‘Mickey said –’

‘Ian!’ Ava cried. ‘Stop interrupting me and let me speak!’

Ian shut his mouth and looked sheepishly at her. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine, you don’t have to explain,’ Ava waved her hand dismissively. ‘What it comes down to, essentially, is do you think Mickey called a break so _you_ could fuck other people, or so _he_ could?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Does he still love you?’ Ava asked. ‘Like, do you think he’s calling a break so he can let you down easy and say at the end of it “I don’t love you anymore so we’re done”?’

Ian shook his head and adjusted the angle of his screen slightly. ‘He wouldn’t do that. If he wanted to dump me, he would just jump to it and go off to suffer in a flood of manly Milkovich tears.’

‘I suppose that’s something then…’ Ava stretched and yawned. ‘The way I see it, right, you need to get him back within three months.’

‘Uh huh, that was kind of the plan.’

‘So you gotta find a way to do that.’

‘That would seem like the reasonable thing to do, yeah.’

Ava gave him a pointed look. ‘Don’t be snarky with me, son. I’m not the one who tried to propose and ended up on a break instead.’

Ian looked down to his keyboard and idly cleaned some dust from between the keys. ‘Yeah, well, technically, I didn’t even get the opportunity to propose. He kinda beat me to it.’

Ava sighed. ‘I’m not gonna fly to New York to help you sort this mess out, as much as I want to. You’re just gonna have to be a big kid and clean up your own mess.’

‘Are you sure you don’t wanna come here for a while? I have a spare room. And a dog,’ Ian said hopefully, figuratively dangling Radar like a carrot in front of a horse.

‘Tempting,’ Ava grinned. ‘But you need to do this yourself, okay? Show Mickey you love him, and don’t do anything _stupid_.’

‘Me? Stupid?’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Name one stupid thing I’ve done.’

‘Agree to a three month break,’ Ava deadpanned. ‘Okay, I love you, but I love sleep more, and it’s almost one a.m., so I’m going to bed.’

‘Okay. Night,’ Ian smiled, giving Ava a salute.

‘Night night. Don’t fuck things up while I’m gone!’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Ian assured her, as Ava gave him a thumbs up and ended their video call.

So, according to Ava, all Ian had to do was find a way to get Mickey back. Preferably before the three months were over, as well. Why the fuck had he agreed to that in the first place? Ian had fucked up, and he would be the first to admit it, but he didn’t want to be the one apologising this time. Mickey could grovel at _his_ feet, because Ian sure as fuck wasn’t going to crack. He would make a plan, he would _follow_ his damn plan, and he would get Mickey back.

But, y’know, Mickey wasn’t the grovelling type, so maybe Ian would have to forget about that part.

 

* * *

 

When Mandy knocked on her brother’s door, she hadn’t been expecting him to actually _open_ it. ‘Oh,’ she said, temporarily startled by her brother’s appearance. ‘Hey. Didn’t think you’d be here.’

‘Then why the fuck did you come over and knock on my damn door?’ Mickey asked, turning and stalking back into his apartment. ‘Jesus, Mandy.’

Mandy frowned and followed him, shutting the door tentatively, and shucking off her shoes and coat by the door. ‘Thought you’d be at Ian’s.’

‘Nope.’

‘Trouble in paradise?’

‘Something like that,’ Mickey muttered, handing her a beer and drinking deeply from his own. ‘We’re…’

‘No,’ Mandy groaned. ‘No, no, no.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Mickey, why?’

‘Short answer, because we’re stupid,’ Mickey said, dropping onto his couch and rubbing at the back of his neck. ‘Long answer, because we broke up for a week and both decided to go out and get ourselves some ass.’

Mandy blinked and set her bottle on the table in front of her. ‘You what?’

‘If you wanna get technical about it, I was the only one who _actually_ got some ass. Turns out I interrupted Ian while he was on the yellow brick road to actual asshole.’

‘You fucked someone else?’ Mandy clarified. ‘ _You_ fucked someone _else_?’

‘Yeah, but we were on a break.’

‘Mickey, you are not Ross, Ian is not Rachel. You are not on _Friends_.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. But then you crawled back to him a couple days later, yeah?’

‘Of course I did,’ Mickey said in exasperation. ‘He’s Ian.’

‘Then explain to me why you went and fucked someone else! I didn’t think you actually _would_!’

‘Don’t people always go on about how fucking other people gets you over an ex or something?’ Mickey shook his head and took another drink of beer. ‘But he did too.’

‘He didn’t actually go through with it, though, right?’

‘No, but it was an ex of his that he called up.’

‘Convenience, Mick. Saves the time of going to find someone,’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘So, what. Now you’re done with him? Caput? Just like that?’

‘We’re having a breather,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘I wanted Ian to… I don’t know. See if he was done with everyone else.’

‘Mick, you two were together for a year and a half. You don’t think that counts for anything?’

‘No, I know it does,’ Mickey sighed. ‘He was gonna propose the day he got back, but we split before he –’

‘Wait, hold the fuck up,’ Mandy interrupted loudly. ‘Ian wanted to propose?’

Mickey nodded. ‘He’s been proposing for months, but… I don’t know. This time I would’ve said yes. It felt right, I suppose.’

Mandy’s eyebrows shot into her hair. ‘You mean to tell me that Ian wants to marry you, you were gonna say yes, and you _still_ fucking broke up?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Mickey, what the fuck?’

‘I know.’

‘Does Ian know you screwed someone else?’

‘Yeah, and he still would’ve asked.’

Mandy’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you joking? You can’t be serious right now.’

‘I am,’ Mickey said, twisting his hands in his lap.

Mandy stood up and processed this information as she paced in front of Mickey’s TV, stopping every few steps to stare accusingly at her brother. Eventually she stopped and said, ‘So I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re a complete and utter fucking idiot.’

‘I know.’

‘You still love him?’

Mickey bit his lip and looked down the neck of his bottle. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever stop.’

‘And he still loves you, obviously, otherwise why the fuck would he propose?’ Mandy sighed in frustration. ‘You suggested the break, right?’ At Mickey’s nod, Mandy continued. ‘So what’s stopping you from going back to him right now and getting your brains fucked out _properly_ for the first time in months?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘He should know that I’ll be waiting for him, so I’m not going to be the one to break the silence.’

‘When you say “He should know” do you mean you told him, or that he was supposed to magically absorb that little bit of information through osmosis or something?’

‘Fuck, I don’t know!’

‘Mickey, you need to talk to him,’ Mandy said. ‘You need to get your shit sorted with Ian and go back to playing happy families with Radar.’

‘He can come to me.’

‘Mick, you need to get the fuck over yourself, sacrifice some of your damn pride and get your ass to Ian,’ Mandy pressed. ‘You were all over each other in the car, and you were so happy and in love. I don’t understand how the fuck this shit could even _happen_.’

‘I care too much about him and I… _fuck_ , Mandy. I just want him to be happy and be sure he’s making the right decisions, okay?’ Mickey pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes and made a series of frustrated noises. ‘I want him to be happy.’

‘What if he’s happy with you, though? You will have wasted all this time not being together,’ Mandy sat beside Mickey and took his hands off his face. ‘Mickey, listen to me, okay? Are you listening?’

‘Yes.’

‘To me, what you and Ian have is real. He looks at you like you’re responsible for the world turning and the sun and moon appearing, or like you positioned all the stars, or like you invented Poptarts,’ Mandy sighed. ‘The kind of love you two have is fucking rare, okay? And you’re wasting it. You might even end up throwing it away completely, and then you’re fucked. Ian’s your person, you’re his, and you’re being a selfish asshole by taking it away from him _and_ yourself.’

‘But if –’

‘Mick, this isn’t a situation where you can apply hypothetical realities, okay? You know what you need to do, and you need to do it before it’s too late and everyone is hurting,’ Mandy stood up and went to his kitchen. ‘I actually just came over to get that recipe for Mom’s stew.’

‘Cookbook is on the shelf above the microwave,’ Mickey said, waving his hand in the general direction of the kitchen. ‘You think he’ll start fucking around now we’re on a break again?’

‘I think he’ll be doing what he thinks will work to get you back,’ Mandy shrugged and pulled the cookbook down, flipping through to find the right page. ‘I don’t know what his plan is, but I know he won’t wait however long it is until you finally get the fuck over yourself and slink back to him.’

‘We said a three month break to figure ourselves out.’

‘You think he’ll be soul searching?’ Mandy rolled her eyes and took a few pictures of the recipe on her phone. ‘He won’t. He’s making a plan, Mick.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He’s my best friend. I know how he operates,’ Mandy slipped the book back on the shelf. ‘I’ve got to go, but I’m telling you right now – fuck this up, and you’ll hate yourself forever.’

Mickey sighed in resignation. ‘I’m not gonna go back to him like some bitch.’

‘Won’t you?’ Mandy asked, shoving her feet back in her shoes.

‘No, I ain’t no bitch,’ Mickey said defiantly.

Mandy raised an eyebrow as she put on her coat and opened the door to leave. ‘Aren’t you?’

 

* * *

 

Christmas and New Years were entirely miserable events for both Ian and Mickey, despite the fact that they were both surrounded by their families – Mickey’s was more honourary family than actual family, because he spent the day in Mandy’s apartment, eating whatever culinary delights she and Svetlana had whipped up (Svetlana more so – Mandy mostly just did the prep work) and playing Xbox with Flynn.

New Years was spent roughly the same, but with more alcohol and a text from Ian:

 

_hey mick, idk if this is breaking a rule u didn’t mention or something, but merry christmas and happy new year xx i wish we could’ve spent it together :s_

Mickey bit his lip and wondered if he should reply, so he spent almost ten minutes staring at his screen, tapping it every so often to keep the screen live, before he settled on sending:

 

_happy new year, flower crown princess ian._

‘You okay?’ Mandy asked, sitting beside Mickey in his corner of her couch and passing him a fresh bottle of beer.

Mickey shrugged. ‘I don’t fucking know anymore.’

‘You’re not being noble by not going back to him, you know,’ Mandy said quietly. ‘You’re being a selfish dick.’

‘Probably.’

‘Why are you making _him_ pay for this?’

‘I’m not,’ Mickey replied softly, taking a long pull from his beer. ‘Think of it as me doing penance or some shit.’

‘You’re punishing yourself for fucking someone else?’

‘Giving him the opportunity to do the same.’

‘You know he won’t.’

‘We’re on a break, Mands. He will.’

‘What if he doesn’t?’

‘Then he’s a fuckin’ saint,’ Mickey furrowed his brows. ‘Practically a saint already.’

‘Life would be a lot easier if you would just go to him,’ Mandy sighed. ‘But of course, you won’t do that.’

Mickey shook his head. ‘Nope.’

‘And with that, I’m now completely sure you’re an idiot and that we might not be related,’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘Lana made Russian salad if you want some.’

‘Ian made the best Russian salad,’ Mickey said glumly, staring down the neck of his beer bottle and swirling the contents.

‘Jesus Christ. You’re so whipped. Wait,’ Mandy stood and made to leave. ‘You _were_ whipped. Whipped implies being in a relationship. Now you’re just painful to talk to.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Go back to Ian and stop being a fucking idiot.’

‘Milkoviches don’t back down.’

‘Yup, and for that reason, more than half of us are in jail,’ Mandy pointed out. ‘We gotta learn when to quit.’

‘That a suggestion?’ Mickey asked.

‘Abso-fucking-lutely.’

 

* * *

 

_morning asshole! me n lana are having a party. this weekend, no theme, lots of beer. coming? :)_

Mickey frowned at his phone. It was a week into January, and he hadn’t left his apartment except for work and to get food, and had been filling his time alternating between yelling at a canvas and sad jerking off. He didn’t really want to go to Mandy’s damn party, but fuck knew the invite wasn’t an invite – it was an order.

 

_fine whatever_

_great! don't turn up lookin homeless bc ian’s coming~_

_i never look homeless fuck off_

_yes u do. see u saturday at 8ish :)_

_hate u_

_i know u do~ which is good bc i'm fuelled by hate :)_

_explains a lot_

_stop bein a dick, stop BEATIN ur dick and have a fuckin shower u shithead_

_thanks for the sisterly advice_

_ur welcome :)_

 

* * *

 

As Ian walked towards Mandy’s apartment, he could hear music thumping already. Mandy had told him that Mickey would be there, and until she said that, his plans had mostly consisted of sitting on Skype with Ava, which had sort of become a ritual. They had spent too much time together while Ian had been in London, and now she had become something like a secondary Mandy. He had told her that he wouldn’t be able to make their weekly Skype date, and all she did was send him a bunch of thumbs up emojis and some parting advice: _“Whatever you do, don’t fuck it up!”_

Ian let himself into Mandy’s apartment, because there was a very small chance she would hear him knocking, and went to go find her.

Instead, he bumped into Mickey. Literally. Orange juice flew over them both, and Mickey looked up angrily, fully prepared to yell at the poor fuck who dared spill his drink, but lost his resolve when he saw it was Ian.

‘Sorry, Mick,’ Ian murmured, giving the other man a small smile. ‘Didn’t see you there. Looking for Mandy.’

‘She went to get some last minute snacks,’ Mickey said, frowning down at his shirt. ‘Thanks for this, by the way.’

‘At least you’re in a black shirt,’ Ian said, gesturing at his own, which had started off as fully white, and now had an orange patch on the bottom. ‘Could’ve been worse, I suppose.’

‘How could it get worse, Gallagher?’ Mickey asked, setting his cup down on the kitchen bench, and going towards Mandy’s bathroom.

‘Well,’ Ian said, joining Mickey in the bathroom and shutting the door. ‘Could’ve been red wine.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t drink wine. Also, all you gotta do is put white wine on it, and it takes the stain out.’

Ian raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. How’d you know that?’

‘I work in a restaurant,’ Mickey said, peeling his shirt off and putting the wet part under the tap to rinse it clean, because he would rather have a damp shirt than have one that was damp _and_ sticky. ‘I’ve picked up a few things.’

Ian watched him clean his shirt, then leaned over the sink to rinse the bottom part of his own. ‘How’ve you been?’

Mickey shrugged by way of an answer. ‘You?’

‘Been better,’ Ian said softly. He dared to reach out and put his hand gently on Mickey’s bare shoulder, as he wrung out his damp shirt. To Ian’s surprise, Mickey stiffened, then leaned into his hand. ‘I’ve missed you, Mick.’

Mickey turned to look at Ian, and gave him a small nod. ‘Yeah. You too, man.’

Ian slowly stroked Mickey’s collarbone with his thumb while he thought of something to say. ‘I don’t know why you want to do this break thing, but you know at the end of it, we’re going to end up right back in each other’s arms.’

Mickey bit his lip and said, ‘Maybe.’

‘I’ll still be here waiting,’ Ian said, taking his hand from Mickey so he could put his shirt back on.

Mickey nodded and repeated, ‘Maybe.’

‘Not maybe,’ Ian murmured, stepping close to Mickey. ‘I will be.’ He put his hand on Mickey’s cheek and tugged him forward to kiss him on the forehead. ‘Promise,’ he said, opening the door and leaving the bathroom.

Mickey watched him go and stared at the empty doorway, hoping that maybe Ian would reappear. He didn’t, so Mickey went back to the living room and he wasn’t there either.

Mickey spotted his sister in the kitchen, so he went across to her and stole the bag of Doritos from her hands, ripping into them with fervour. ‘Seen Ian?’

‘Yeah, he was here,’ Mandy nodded. ‘Said he had to go. Why?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘No reason.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian? Thought you were out tonight?’ Ava said immediately, her tone conveying her confusion. ‘What happened?’

Ian groaned and sunk into his pillows. ‘I left.’

‘Why?’

‘Mickey was there.’

‘Yup, and we knew he would be,’ Ava cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘And?’

‘And it was horrible and kind of awkward and made me sad so I left.’

Ava rolled her eyes. ‘Oh boy, what fun your life is filled with, huh?’

‘Basically,’ Ian sighed.

‘How’s your plan coming along to get him back?’

‘Stuck on phase one.’

‘Phase one?’

‘Coming up with a plan.’

‘Maybe you just need to be upfront and honest with him?’ Ava suggested. ‘Tell him how you feel, and hope like Hell that he responds?’

‘Those would be the obvious tactics,’ Ian nodded. ‘It’s kind of a balancing act with Mickey, though. He’s very… skittish.’

‘Then maybe you need to say or do something that’ll shock him.’

‘Like what?’

Ava shrugged. ‘Keep an eye on your emails.’

‘What? Why?’ Ian asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

Ava gave him a knowing look – not one that suggested anything… good, either. ‘Trust me. You can use it as part of your arsenal.’

‘Ava, I’m not getting good vibes from you right now.’

‘That’s the beauty of it, my fine fellow. You don’t _need_ good vibes.’

‘You’re confusing the fuck outta me right now.’

‘Everything will be made clear, don’t worry.’

 

* * *

 

When Ian opened his emails the next day to check for _whatever_ the Hell Ava had been going on about, he was greeted with not only an email from Tom, but also one from his temporary boss in London, Evangeline Heaton.

 

> _Hi Ian,_
> 
> _I’ve talked with the guys in NYC, and they’ve agreed to make your transfer to my office permanent – if you want to accept the position, of course. I understand this is a big commitment, so I’ll give you a little while to think it over. Please get back to me by February 19th with your answer._
> 
> _Of course, it’s entirely up to you. We would love to have you back, but should you decide to stay in NYC, we’ll greatly miss you, and wish you all the best._
> 
> _E._

 

‘Shit,’ Ian murmured, his eyes focused on the _“transfer”_ and _“permanent”_ sections of the email. And February 19th? Jesus Christ, now he had a fucking deadline to snap Mickey back up in. With or without Mickey, he didn’t know if he would take the position, and this early in the morning, it just wasn’t something he wanted to think about. So he skipped to Tom’s email. It was short and to the point:

 

> _Ian,_
> 
>  
> 
> _Guess what? I’m coming to visit you in NYC! :) Took some of my stored up holiday days, so I’ll be there for 2 weeks._
> 
> _Oh, and I have no accommodation. Ava said you had a spare room, so if you would be so kind as to casually suggest I stay with you, then that would be great! :) Please reply with your address, I’ll be there in less than 24 hours. As a good friend, I would be most obliged._

 

What the fuck? Was _this_ what Ava was talking about? Or did she know about his transfer? Because God knows _that_ would definitely be useful to shock Mickey into action. Tom, though. That was a kettle of fish he didn’t want to break into right now.

But, seeing as Ian had always thought of himself as a good person, he _supposed_ he could lend his spare room to Tom for a few days. Maybe he could kick him out after three or so and make him go find a hotel. As it was, Ian sent a reply to Tom with his address, and prayed that Tom wouldn’t try to get it on with him again.

 

* * *

 

_mick we need to talk. u home?_

_yeah. guessin u still got the key so let urself in. i'm painting._

_okay be there in 5_

Mickey rolled his eyes and continued to swipe paint across the canvas, concentrating on getting the shadows right. He heard the door click open a few minutes later, so he put his brush down and wiped his hands off on his pants – who cared if they accumulated a few more patches of paint?

‘Hey,’ Mickey greeted, walking into his living room and raising an eyebrow at the huge bunch of flowers Ian had brought with him. ‘Going on a date?’

‘What?’ Ian followed Mickey’s line of sight to the flowers. ‘Oh. No, they’re for you.’

‘Oh, uh,’ Mickey scratched the back of his neck. ‘Thanks. Just… put them somewhere.’

Ian rolled his eyes and went about getting a jug to fill with water for Mickey’s flowers. ‘I got some news today.’

‘Good news or bad news?’

‘Unsure yet,’ Ian frowned.

‘What is it?’ Mickey asked, sensing he might not actually want to know.

Ian chewed on his lip while he arranged the flowers in the jug. After almost a minute of silence, Ian said quietly, ‘I’ve been offered my job in London back. They want to make me permanent.’

Mickey looked down and twisted his hands together. ‘Gonna take it?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Don’t know. It depends.’

‘On?’

Ian sighed and left the flowers to stand in front of Mickey. ‘What do _you_ think?’

‘You’re asking me if I think you should go?’ Mickey said, ignoring Ian in front of him.

‘No,’ Ian shook his head. ‘I’m asking you to give me a reason to stay, Mick.’

Mickey looked up at Ian and tilted his head. ‘I’ve told you already you can’t factor me into your decisions.’

‘Yeah, well. I listened to you last time, and this is where we’ve ended up.’

‘You did what you wanted then, you should do what you want to now.’

‘What about you?’ Ian asked.

‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ Mickey replied softly. ‘We’re on a break, remember? March twentieth.’

‘I don’t have that long, Mick. She wants my decision by February nineteenth.’

‘Ian –’

‘Mick, I’m not asking you to make a decision for me, I’m asking you to make a decision for you,’ Ian said. ‘If you want me, I’m yours. I’ll stay. I’ll listen to you this time.’

‘Ian…’ Mickey said helplessly. ‘You haven’t even given this break a chance. It’s been two weeks.’

‘What if two weeks is all I need to decide that I don’t want anyone else?’

‘Then… I don’t know. I’m not jumping back into this yet, Ian.’

‘Why not, Mick? Why won’t you?’

‘Because…’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Because, okay?’ _I’m still punishing myself._

‘Okay,’ Ian said, stepping back. ‘You know where I am if you want to come see me.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Bye, Mick,’ Ian called softly, as he left Mickey’s apartment.

Mickey watched the door shut, and kept staring at it, like Ian might come back and tell him it was all a joke. There was no job in London, and they had all the time in the world. But now it seemed like Mandy was right, and Mickey was going to have to sacrifice his pride like a lamb on the altar of humility. He would have to go back to Ian – like some _bitch_ – before Ian decided he wanted to move to London. Move up in life, and move on from Mickey.

And all he would be left with would be a gap in his soul where Ian used to be, and a bunch of flowers to try and ease his pain.

 

* * *

 

‘No glory in the process,’ Mickey muttered, walking steadily towards Ian’s apartment building. ‘Only in the end result.’ It had taken him a few days to prepare himself to go see Ian and beg for him back. Well. Not beg. Milkoviches did a lot of things, but beg? Never. Mickey would… insistently persuade.

‘No glory in the process,’ Mickey repeated, entering Ian’s building and going into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor. ‘Only in the end result.’ It had sort of become his mantra the past few days.

‘No glory in the process,’ Mickey said once more, walking down the hall and knocking on Ian’s door. ‘Only in the end result.’

The door swung open and Mickey briefly wondered if he had the wrong apartment, because he had never seen this guy before. He was taller than Mickey, but not as tall as Ian, had blonde hair streaked with even blonder highlights, and looked expectantly at Mickey as he stood in the doorway. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

‘Uh,’ Mickey looked up and down the hall. ‘Must have the wrong apartment. I’m looking for Ian?’

‘Oh!’ the guy grinned, holding out a hand for Mickey to shake. ‘I’m Tom! You must be Mickey? I’ve heard a lot about you.’

Mickey glared at the hand and then up at Tom, until the other man took his hand away.

‘Ian!’ Tom called backwards into the apartment. ‘There’s a dashing young man here for you!’

Mickey couldn’t help but notice Tom’s casual lack of shoes. _Fucking bastard_. He had moved in on Mickey’s territory, or maybe, Ian had moved on?

‘Mickey?’ Ian asked, pulling him from his, frankly quite concerning, realisations. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘The fuck do you _think_ I’m doing here, asshole?’ Mickey spat.

‘Whoa, whoa, what did I do?’

‘Him, apparently. Moved on already?’

‘What?’

‘That’s Tom. Your ex, then booty call, and now – what? What the fuck, Ian?’ Mickey said, shaking his head and starting to head down the hall, before turning back and coming to glare at a bewildered Ian.

‘Mick,’ Ian said gently. ‘Nothing’s going on between me and Tom.’

‘Has everything you’ve been spouting at me for the past few weeks been absolute bullshit? Bet you and _Tom_ have been having a good laugh about it, huh?’

Ian rubbed at his arm while he thought of a reply to that, and brought Mickey’s attention to the drawing underneath. ‘Mickey, look –’

‘What the fuck is that?’ Mickey asked, nodding at Ian’s arm. ‘You get a tattoo or something?’

Ian looked to where Mickey was staring and pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt – actually, not his t-shirt. Mickey’s Metallica t-shirt that Ian had claimed after the first time they hooked up. ‘Yeah, couple days before I left for London.’

Mickey stepped forward and hovered his fingers over the lines. ‘I drew those.’

‘Yeah.’

‘My firebird and Yggdrasil,’ Mickey murmured, his voice filled with wonderment.

‘Your griffin is on the back too,’ Ian said softly. ‘ _Your_ griffin, not Tom’s, or anyone else’s.’

Ian thought that might’ve been the right thing to say, but apparently it wasn’t, because Mickey took a step back and narrowed his eyes. ‘Fuck you, Ian.’

‘Huh?’

‘Fuck you,’ Mickey repeated. ‘I suggest a three month break to punish _myself_ for fucking someone else, and you go and get your ex on a _transatlantic_ booty call? Fuck you.’

‘Wait –’

‘Fuck you!’ Mickey cried, striding down the hall and getting back in the elevator, staring at Ian as the doors closed, an expression of absolute betrayal on his face.

When the elevator was fully shut, Ian exhaled deeply to calm himself, before he concentrated all his rage and anger into a single roar, and punched his wall as hard as he could.

He barely missed a steel beam, but as it was, his fist went straight through the wall, and broke the skin on his knuckles. He figured the sting and pain was little compared to what Mickey must be feeling right now.


	20. Fought a Hive of Bees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a short chapter this time! (sorry)

When Mickey got to the ground floor of Ian’s building, he stormed outside and glared up the exterior of the building, like it had been responsible for that fuckwad, Tom, being in Ian’s apartment. Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? He had followed Mandy’s advice and gone to see Ian, and broken about seventy different rules he had set for himself in the process.

Fucker had moved on. Not even _on_ , he went fucking _backwards_.

And not only _that_ , but he had also gotten a tattoo of Mickey’s doodling? _Before_ he fucked off to London? How the fuck had he kept that under wraps for nigh on eight fucking months. Well, thinking of it now, he had been wearing a lot of sleeves, and had angled his laptop towards his dick when they were… mutually jerking off.

Mickey let out a growl and headed away from Ian’s apartment. A fucking nest of lies. Mickey rolled his eyes to himself. ‘Fucking asshole. _“Your griffin”_ ,’ he mocked. ‘ _“Not Tom’s or anyone else’s”_. Fuck off.’

And the fucking firebird? How fucking fitting. A firebird on the firebird. A blessing and a Goddamn curse. Ian was the light of his fucking life, and now, he was responsible for everything shitty as well. Fucking. Firebird. _Asshole._

Honestly, Mickey was quite stunned that Ian had gotten that tattooed. Now that he wasn’t staring it, or _Tom_ , in the face, he could think quite clear headedly about it, and it came down to the fact that Ian had tattooed half assed doodles on his arm. It was basically a fucking half sleeve that _Mickey_ had drawn. And he had said “Your griffin”, like Ian belonged to Mickey, like it had claimed him. Shit.

Mickey’s train of thought must’ve taken longer than it had appeared, because somehow he had walked from Ian’s apartment block to Mandy’s, and his feet had carried him inside and into her elevator. Now with a definite path in mind, Mickey’s rage soared again.

He hammered his fist on Mandy’s door, and hoped like Hell she was actually home.

‘Mickey?’ Mandy asked, opening her door.

Mickey was briefly relieved that his sister was home, before his anger came back, and his face darkened. ‘Ian has a guy in his apartment,’ he said lowly.

Mandy raised her eyebrows as she recognised his _“Someone’s gonna get fucked up”_ tone, and stepped aside to let him in. ‘Mick, you know I’m not your mother, and you’re not some prissy eleven year old tattling on their big sibling, right? Ian’s allowed to have friends.’

‘Not a friend,’ Mickey said, clenching and unclenching his fists. ‘His ex. Tom.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘I did exactly what you told me,’ Mickey exhaled deeply. ‘I went to sacrifice my pride at his feet, and fucking _Tom_ strolled over it in his casual bare feet, and I want to stab him in the fucking face and send it to his fucking _parents_ , Mandy.’

‘Mickey, calm down,’ Mandy said in a soothing voice. ‘Calm down, and we’ll look at this rationally.’

‘You want me to be rational? When the fuck have we ever been _rational_?!’

‘Yeah, I know, it’s a bit of a leap,’ Mandy nodded. ‘How do you know they’re back together, though? Did you see Ian physically shoving his dick in this other guy’s ass?’

‘No –’

‘Then I don’t think they’re together,’ Mandy said simply. ‘Ian loves you too much, okay? Trust me on that. He wouldn’t do that to you.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, slumping onto Mandy’s couch as the fire left his body. ‘Well, he did.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mickey,’ Mandy said slowly. ‘Are you sure?’

‘No,’ Mickey hung his head in his hands. ‘I’m not. But that’s exactly what it fucking looked like.’

‘Would you even bother to ask him?’

‘No, because he would lie.’

Mandy gave a frustrated sigh. ‘Fuck, Mickey. You’re a stubborn little shit, aren’t you?’

Mickey frowned and folded in on himself. ‘No.’

‘Proving my fucking point right there.’

‘Did you know he got a tattoo?’ Mickey asked. ‘Fucker got my drawings tattooed!’

Mandy raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Did you _not_ know?’

‘No, I didn’t!’

‘Why are you so pissed about it?’

‘I’m…’ Mickey huffed. ‘I’m not. I just… he got them tattooed. I drew it and he tattooed it and I didn’t mean for them to be permanent but they are, and now? I don’t know.’

‘Do you not like them or something?’ Mandy asked. ‘Like are they really shitty?’

‘No fucking way, are you serious?’ Mickey shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean for them to stay, you know? They were just stupid pictures.’

‘I guess Ian didn’t think so, huh?’ Mandy asked, kicking his feet off her couch and sitting beside him. ‘Really though – do you not like them?’

‘Fuck no, I love them.’

Mandy grinned. ‘Three outta four “T”s isn’t bad, huh?’

‘What?’

‘The four “T”s?’ Mandy said, waiting for him to catch on. When Mickey continued to give her a blank look, Mandy rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘Tall, tanned, tank, and tattooed. Four “T”s.’

‘What’s Ian missing?’

‘Tan, Mick.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘You should talk to him, though. Sort out what’s going on now. I mean, just because he had a guy in his apartment doesn’t mean they’re fucking.’

‘I’m not going to go back there. Definitely not right now.’

Mandy sighed deeply. ‘In that case, beer?’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian?’ Tom called, coming down to the front door from the kitchen. ‘Are you alright?’

Ian turned to the other man and glared at him, clenching and unclenching his bloody fist, before deciding he could patch it up himself, and going towards his bathroom.

‘Ian,’ Tom repeated, following him to the first aid box under the sink. ‘What happened?’

‘What the fuck did you say to Mickey?’ Ian spat, throwing shut the toilet lid and slamming the box on top.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Tom said in confusion. ‘Just introduced myself, told him you’d talked about him a lot. Why?’

‘He seems to think we’re together.’

‘Are we?’ Tom asked tentatively.

Ian stopped searching through the box – he wasn’t even sure what he needed right now, because his head was too foggy to function. ‘Are you fucking seriously asking me that right now?!’ Ian yelled. ‘Get the fuck out of my apartment!’

‘What? You said I could stay here!’

‘Yeah, and it’s my fucking apartment, and now I’m telling you to fuck off, so _fuck off_!’

‘Ian,’ Tom said complacently. ‘I don’t know what you’re acting like this for, but you need to calm down and think rationally about this.’

‘About what? Throwing you the fuck out?’ Ian asked, finally doing something right and turning on a tap at the sink. ‘I should never have let you come here in the first place! Mickey Milkovich was at my door _apologising_ and then you show up at my fucking door, and he thinks we’re back together! If it weren’t for you, I would be having sex for the first time in _eight fucking months_ with the guy I love more than fucking _breathing_!’ Ian’s chest heaved with exertion from yelling at Tom without taking a breath. ‘So you and your “Think rationally about this” can go and fucking _shove it_!’

Tom’s eyes widened at Ian’s behaviour and he took a step back, before studying him and saying, ‘Do you at least want me to help you with your hand?’

Ian shook his head. ‘Right now, all I want is for you to go.’

‘Where?’

‘Fuck, I don’t care. There’s a hotel a couple blocks away.’

Tom nodded. ‘Can we at least hang out while I’m here? It’s sort of the reason I came.’ When Ian narrowed his eyes at him, Tom quickly set about backtracking. ‘I mean, as friends. You clearly don’t have any feelings for me anymore, and I think my naivety has run its course.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, whatever. Just leave.’

‘Okay,’ Tom said, going away from the bathroom. Ian heard him packing up his suitcase and clicking the locks shut, pulling it into the hallway. Tom had already put his shoes and coat on, and stopped past the bathroom to say, ‘I’m sorry, Ian.’

Ian didn’t say anything, just focussed on cleaning his hand under the warm running water. A few seconds later, he heard his front door open and shut, and the soft thuds of Radar walking down the hallway to find him. ‘Hey, bud,’ Ian murmured, spotting Radar from the corner of his eye.

Radar lay down on the carpet outside the bathroom and let out a deep sigh.

‘Yeah,’ Ian agreed. ‘Me too.’

 

* * *

 

Despite having calmed down while at Mandy’s place, Mickey arrived home absolutely _seething_ with rage. He wasn’t entirely sure what sparked it, but he was pretty fucking sure that the fact that Ian was all over his apartment had something to do with it.

It wasn’t like he had suddenly started hating Ian in the five hours it had been since he’d been at his apartment, because God knows how unlikely that was to happen. Mickey needed to punch someone, or burn something or… Fuck. Something needed to be destroyed.

Somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to destroy the bouquet from Ian. He considered burning the brony rose from Mandy’s costume party the night he and Ian first hooked up, because – despite telling Ian he wouldn’t – he had kept it. It wasn’t in a little vase, and he didn’t take it out when he missed him, but Mickey still had it. It was tucked away in the back of a drawer somewhere, but Mickey had no intention of telling Ian that.

As it was – something needed to die. To feel pain and hurt and be the object his anger was directed at.

He stalked into his studio and ripped out his folder of drawings he didn’t know what to do with. Right at the back of the papers accumulating in there, the first picture of Ian that Mickey had ever drawn. From memory, and a small distance, Mickey thought he had almost had Ian’s face right. Looking at it now, he could see where he was wrong. The shape of his eyebrows, the roundness of his chin, and the pattern of his freckles – Mickey knew exactly what it all looked like now.

And so, he slid down the wall. It was getting to be really shitty how Ian had this fucking effect on him. Mickey couldn’t stay mad at him – not even a drawing of his face that was wrong in about fifty two different ways.

Fucking Ian.

 

* * *

 

‘So you know how you told me not to fuck shit up?’

Ava let out a long, exaggerated groan. ‘What did you do?’

‘Me? Not really anything,’ Ian said innocently.

Ava raised an eyebrow and bit into the apple she was holding. ‘You want to try that again?’

Ian rubbed his forehead and shut his eyes tightly as he said, ‘Let Tom stay in my apartment, Mickey came by, Tom answered, now Mickey’s not talking to me because he thinks I’m back with Tom.’

‘Oh, _Jesus_ , Ian!’ Ava threw her hands in the air. ‘What the Hell?’

‘Pretty much exactly what I want to know!’

‘Why would you _do_ that?’ Ava asked. ‘Are you stupid? Seriously?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, you’re damn right you are,’ Ava agreed fiercely. ‘Inviting your ex? To _stay_ with you? Come on, that was doomed from the get go!’

‘According to him, you told him I had a spare room he could use!’ Ian said accusingly.

Ava paused. ‘No… I was telling someone how you offered me your spare room and the eternal love of your dog to come sort out your mess, but never Tom.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes! What a bastard, dredging my name through the dirt,’ Ava shook her head. ‘By association, that would make me partly responsible for your break up. He’s gonna feel the pain.’

‘Go for it,’ Ian held up his bandaged hand. ‘Make it a good one.’

‘What the fuck happened there?’ Ava gasped, leaning closer to her screen to peer at it. ‘Fight a hive of bees and lose or something?’

‘Fought my wall and lost.’

‘You _punched_ your wall?’

‘Heat of the moment.’

Ava rolled her eyes. ‘Son, you need some help over there.’

‘You fucking think? I’ve got three weeks before Evangeline wants my answer about moving back to London.’

Ava blinked. ‘Or you could just say no and stay in New York.’

‘Well, yeah. I could.’

‘And you won’t because..?’

‘Mickey.’

‘Naturally,’ Ava sighed. ‘I’ll talk to the HR people on Monday and see if I can get some leave.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I mean. You’re basically fucked without me, aren’t you?’ Ava shrugged.

Ian rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny that as anything other than the truth.

 

* * *

 

Mickey was sitting on his floor, surrounded by stacks of paper. Some were balled up, fucked up squares with shitty and unequal creases, some with tears and rips, and to the side of him, there were four, perfectly folded paper cranes.

He knew, of course he knew, that there was a myth that said if you folded one thousand paper cranes, then you would be granted a wish. He also knew that that was complete and utter fucking bullshit, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and besides – it was an interesting new project, as opposed to painting or drawing. It was oddly soothing, despite how fucking frustrating it had started out as.

Mickey folded paper for hours. Sitting on his floor, listening to his playlist from Ian, and slowly adding to the pile of cranes. He stopped every forty to string them together and hang it somewhere. At the moment he got the call, Mickey had a string of cranes draped over one of his paintings on the wall, with twenty three cranes sitting beside him.

The sound of his ringtone, Mickey nearly jumped with fright. He grabbed his phone, and answered the call, ignoring the fact that it was an unknown number.

‘Hello?’ Mickey said.

 _‘Hello, is this Mickey Milkovich?’_ a voice asked.

‘Yeah, who wants to know?’

_‘My name is Petra. I work for a gallery that’s interested in showcasing your work.’_

 

* * *

 

Ian was still in shock as he opened up Skype and clicked call for the Gallagher household.

‘Ian?’ Debbie said, picking up the call. ‘What’s up?’

‘Someone… Jesus,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Someone…’

‘Ian…’

‘Someone wants to publish my book.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (btw - the "four Ts" is a thing. it's more or less how my sister decides who she wants to date.) (also in case you're not familiar with the colloquial terminology for "tank", it's basically just another word for "ripped" etc.) ~~(my sister does not have very high standards tbqfh.)~~


	21. Ready to Flamingle

The second Ian stepped into his apartment, he was tackled.

‘Ian!’ Ava cried, giving him a bone crushing hug.

‘Hey, Ava,’ Ian said, gasping dramatically for air. ‘Let me go?’

‘Sorry,’ Ava grinned, stepping back. ‘Have you gotten taller?’

‘Nah, you’re shrinking,’ Ian grinned back. ‘I’m glad to see you found my place alright.’

‘Yup! You have lovely neighbours.’

‘Mhmm, they’re the only trustworthy ones I have, because they’re like… I don’t know. Eighty.’

‘Stylish eighty year olds,’ Ava said, following him to his bedroom as he changed out of his formal clothing, and shoving her head into a pillow (Mickey’s, which made Ian’s heart twinge sadly) when he got round to changing into sweatpants. ‘Mrs Taylor had a very smooth chignon do going on.’

‘She’s had enough time to practice,’ Ian commented lightly. ‘Hungry?’

‘Starving,’ Ava nodded, as they travelled towards the kitchen. ‘I didn’t want to impose on your food supplies, so I decided to wait until you got home.’

‘Just help yourself,’ Ian said, waving his hand towards his pantry. ‘What do you want for dinner?’

‘Whatever you’re having.’

‘You want to order a pizza?’

‘Hell yeah, I want to order a pizza!’

‘Menu’s on the fridge,’ Ian said, yawning as he grabbed his laptop and nestled into his couch. ‘Order whatever. It’s on me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, but you have to call.’

‘Deal. What do you want?’ Ava asked, perusing the pizza selection.

‘There’s a Greek one on there that’s pretty good,’ Ian said, as a little notification popped up from Skype.

 

**_Gallaghers:_ ** _iaaannnnnnnn are you on?????_

**_Ian:_ ** _ian is on. who is this?_

**_Gallaghers:_ ** _your favourite sister <3_

**_Ian:_ ** _fiona?_

**_Gallaghers:_ ** _:( debbie_

**_Ian:_ ** _yeah i know :L_

**_Ian:_ ** _what's up?_

**_Gallaghers:_ ** _just checkin in :) how’s everything?_

**_Ian:_ ** _…messy._

**_Gallaghers:_ ** _i don’t want to ask??_

**_Ian:_ ** _it’s a hell of a story to type out in detail_

**_Gallaghers:_ ** _video call?_

**_Ian:_ ** _okay but not long. just ordered pizza for dinner._

**[Call Incoming: Gallaghers]**

 

‘Hi, Debs,’ Ian said, answering the call. ‘You there?’

‘I’m here,’ Debbie’s voice replied. ‘So what’s going on?’

‘Ooh, are we talking to the infamous Gallagher siblings?’ Ava asked, jumping onto the couch next to Ian and squishing her face into his shoulder to see his screen. ‘Hi!’ Ava greeted.

‘Uh, hi,’ Debbie said, looking questioningly at Ian.

‘Ava, my sister, Debbie. Debbie, this is Ava. She’s my friend from London,’ Ian explained.

‘Are you back in London? That looks like your apartment…’

‘It is. She came here to help me with my… mess.’

‘Right. The mess,’ Debbie nodded. ‘What is the mess?’

‘Mickey,’ Ava supplied.

‘Mickey?’ Debbie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

‘Mickey,’ Ian confirmed.

‘What happened with Mickey?’

‘We broke up while I was in London, he fucked someone, we got back together, broke up _again_ the day I got back, and when I had a guy staying in my apartment a few days ago, Mickey came by to apologise – I _think –_ and drew his own conclusions from the guy that opened the door,’ Ian scrunched up his face. ‘Okay, that wouldn’t have taken too long to type.’

‘Who’s the guy you had with you?’ Debbie asked, leaning her chin in her hand.

‘Uh… Tom,’ Ian said sheepishly.

‘Your _ex_ , Tom?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Did he introduce himself to Mickey as Tom?’

‘Yeah.’

Debbie groaned. ‘God, you’re an _idiot_!’

‘Trust me,’ Ava put in. ‘I’ve told him.’

‘So you’re there to wade into my brother’s love life and hopefully emerge unscathed, and with Ian and Mickey back together?’ Debbie asked.

Ava shrugged. ‘Something like that.’

‘Good luck.’

Ava grinned. ‘I feel like with these two, I’ll need it.’

‘Definitely. Have you met Mickey?’

‘Nope. Well, not in person.’

‘Oh, you’re in for a fun time,’ Debbie grinned. ‘Mickey’s not exactly sunshine and rainbows.’

‘I can tell,’ Ava nodded and cocked her head to the side. ‘I think the pizza’s here.’

‘Can’t be,’ Ian muttered, passing his laptop to Ava and getting up to retrieve his wallet just in case it was. He walked across to his door and pulled it open, groaning when he saw who was on the other side. ‘Oh my God, would you fuck off?’

‘Rude,’ Tom rolled his eyes. ‘How’re the hands?’

‘Fine, at the moment. Could change any second. Depends if I decide to break your fucking face or not.’

‘Jesus, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, didn’t you?’

‘Tom, what the fuck do you want?’

‘Free for dinner?’ Tom asked, giving Ian a hopeful smile.

‘He’s spoken for,’ Ava called. ‘We thought you were the pizza guy.’

‘Ava?’

‘Surprise!’

Tom narrowed his eyes at the tiny woman in front of him. ‘Why are _you_ here?’

‘Because I can be. Why are you?’ Ava challenged.

‘Trying to get back with my hot as fuck ex,’ Tom winked.

Ava made a noise of disgust and pulled Ian out of the doorway. She slammed the door shut and slid the bolt across. ‘Ian, you have a peep, eye hole thing. Use it next time.’

‘Noted,’ Ian muttered. ‘Is my sister still on Skype?’

‘Nope, she had to go,’ Ava said. ‘She wanted me to tell you to take your head out of your ass and stop inviting your exes to your apartment, though.’

‘She did, did she?’

‘Yup. Also to make up with Mickey because she really liked him.’

‘I know she did,’ Ian sighed. ‘Okay, well. I’m going to go lie on my bed and consider the colossal fuck up that is my love life. Call me when the pizza’s here.’

‘Will do. Have fun!’ Ava said cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

‘No, Mick, don’t put that fucking tie on,’ Mandy said, scrunching her nose and ripping the tie from her brother’s hands. ‘Don’t.’

‘Why not?’ Mickey protested. ‘I’m the artist, I’m meant to look _classy_.’

‘Mickey Milkovich wanting to wear a tie?’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘Never thought I’d see the day.’

‘Ian likes me in a tie,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘Too fucking bad. He likes to _tie_ you up even more.’

‘That’s the worst fucking pun I have ever heard. Show yourself out.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mandy grinned and punched Mickey’s shoulder. ‘Besides, this is my apartment, isn’t it?’

‘Remind me why that is again?’

‘Because Svetlana and Flynn are coming as well. Probably more for the free food and whatever, but that’s irrelevant,’ Mandy smiled and brushed imaginary dirt from his shoulders. ‘We’re coming to support you, because we’re all super proud. Me, especially.’

Mickey rolled his eyes as his sister sniffed and gave him a smile that was barely this side of watery. ‘Jesus fuck, Mandy, don’t you fucking start crying at me.’

‘No, Mick, let me have this,’ Mandy insisted. ‘I’m so proud of you, okay? You got out of the Southside, you came out, and you’ve got a gallery full of your art that people are lining up out the fucking door to buy. You’ve come so far and you’ve grown so much from the person you used to be, and I’m so fucking proud of you. So fucking proud.’

Mickey sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth to stop himself from saying something sarcastic, and nodded in thanks as he pulled his sister in for a hug. Mickey wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of saying it out loud, but Mandy’s words meant the world to him. They weren’t often affectionate and singing each other’s praises, and on the rare occasions that they were, it was semi-awkward and ridiculously meaningful. Of course Mickey knew she was proud, but it was always nice to have it verbalised.

After a few seconds, Mickey cleared his throat and took a step backwards. ‘We should get going or we’ll be late for the opening.’

Mandy nodded and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Yeah. You go check Lana and Flynn and I’ll find my fucking coat.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey said, leaving her room, before stopping at the door and saying, ‘Thanks, Mands.’

Mandy gave him a small smile and went back to searching through her closet for the elusive coat, which Mickey took as his cue to leave her room for real this time, and go to find the other members of their little party.

‘Mickey, we are waiting,’ Svetlana said from the living room and tapping her foot impatiently.

‘On Mandy,’ Mickey corrected, joining them. ‘She’s getting her jacket.’

‘She better hurry. I want the good free stuff,’ Svetlana said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she grinned at him.

‘Yeah, same here,’ Mickey agreed, before he yelled back down the hallway, ‘Jesus, Mandy! You goin’ to fuckin’ Narnia for that fuckin’ coat?’

‘I’m here, fuck!’ Mandy yelled back, emerging with an expensive looking trench coat on. ‘What’re you staring at? Are we going or what?’

Flynn rolled his eyes and led the way from the apartment. ‘Seeing as I’m driving, you can all follow me.’

‘Where the fuck did you get that coat?’ Mickey asked, as he waited with Mandy to lock the door behind them all. ‘Looks like it costs more than my monthly fuckin’ rent.’

‘Dunno. Gift from Ian when he came back from London,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘It’s nice, right?’

Mickey huffed in mild annoyance and muttered, ‘You get a fuckin’ coat and all I get is a damn ring.’

Mandy sucked in a breath and shook her head as they entered the elevator with Flynn and Svetlana. ‘Too soon, Mick. Not quite over the fact that you robbed me of my best friend as a brother in law.’

‘What?’ Flynn asked. ‘You and Ian?’

‘No,’ Mickey said shortly.

‘No, what? Why not?’ Svetlana asked, as the elevator landed on the ground floor and they went off towards Flynn’s car. ‘I told you to marry the orange boy.’

‘Yeah, and we broke up instead. Can we stop talking about this?’

Svetlana raised an eyebrow and shot him a meaningful look, but said no more. She was obviously trying to hold in some seriously angry words as they drove to the gallery, and Mickey was fucking impressed she managed to hold it in as long as she did. Once they arrived at the gallery, however, Svetlana exploded into a mass of angry sounding Russian, and all Mickey caught was something that might’ve been to do with “I’m disappointed in you” and “Fucking stupid men”, so really, in that moment, she was basically giving voice to everything that had been floating around Mickey’s head for the past few weeks, like she was reading off a fucking teleprompter.

They were allowed into the gallery before it officially opened, and Mickey was shown around to see how everything had been presented, and was congratulated by the gallery’s manager, a slim brunette with a nose ring, named Florence, and her assistant, Petra, who had called Mickey to talk about the show in the first place.

They chattered excitedly with Mickey about his work and how much they loved the general theme of it all, especially a certain few pieces. Mickey wasn’t really listening, because he was too caught up in the fact that he had a show in a gallery. His work. All his. And people wanted to see it.

Florence and Petra seemed to realise this, because they stopped talking after a few minutes, and Petra went off to unlock the front doors. ‘It’s kind of overwhelming, isn’t it?’ Florence said, as they stood in front of a painting of a valkyrie.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘If you don’t mind my asking – how did you even find me?’

‘I’m a frequent visitor to the salon your sister and her friend work at,’ Florence explained. ‘I’ve been admiring the paintings in there for months, and I finally asked your sister who they were by. She was all too forthcoming with information. She’s very proud of you.’

‘I know,’ Mickey said, looking around for his sister and, once he had caught her eye, giving her what he hoped was a thankful smile. ‘She’s kinda great like that. But don’t tell her, because no one will ever hear the end of it.’

Florence laughed. ‘Pinky promise. How are you with mingling? People are beginning to arrive.’

‘I suppose I’ll have to _mingle_ , won’t I?’ Mickey grimaced and said in a mocking voice, ‘Single and ready to flamingle.’

Florence bit back a laugh and went away to greet a few guests, after congratulating Mickey one last time.

It wasn’t until she had gone that Mickey realised he had imitated Ian’s voice.

 

* * *

 

‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ Ava asked, holding onto Ian’s arm for dear life. She had never regretted wearing heels more in her life than this exact moment.

‘Uh… No,’ Ian said, whipping out his phone and going onto Google maps.

‘Oh Jesus,’ Ava moaned. ‘Google maps? Are we _that_ lost?’

‘We’re lost?’ another voice added in.

Ava spun around while Ian fiddled with his phone and narrowed her eyes at their stalker. ‘Tom, what the fuck are you doing?’

‘Coming along!’ Tom said happily, jogging to catch up to them. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Tiny thug cutie pie almost-fiancé has a show at an art gallery, and it’s opening night,’ Ava sniffed. ‘You’re not invited.’

‘Says who?’

‘Says literally everyone on the face of the planet,’ Ava deadpanned. ‘Get lost before I shove this six inch stiletto fully into your eyeball.’

Tom gave her a smug look. ‘Ian said we could hang out.’

‘Ian?’

Ian looked up and started walking again, now he had actual directions to the gallery. ‘Um… Well, yeah. I did.’

‘Ian!’

‘I know. Heat of the moment.’

Ava blinked at him. ‘Like in an argument, right.’

‘ _Yes_ , in an argument,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘We’re actually just one block over from the gallery.’

‘So we’re lost but not _super_ lost,’ Ava nodded. ‘Well done. You didn’t fuck up nearly as much as you could’ve! Oh wait, you did, because _Tom_ is here. At your invitation.’

‘I didn’t invite him,’ Ian hissed. ‘I said we could hang out so he would fucking leave.’

‘And now you’ve got a fucking creepy stalker puppy.’

‘It would seem so.’

 Ava sighed in frustration as they rounded the corner and saw the lights of the gallery. ‘You, Ian Gallagher, are digging yourself deeper into this hole, and not even I might be able to save you.’

‘You’ll just watch me fail,’ Ian nodded. ‘I appreciate it, thanks.’

Ava grinned at him as they entered the gallery, and took glasses of champagne at the door. ‘Oh my God,’ she murmured. ‘He’s fucking incredible.’

Ian followed her gaze around the first few paintings and drawings and nodded in agreement. ‘I know.’

‘Don’t tell me the biggest gay in the Southside has gone hetero?’ a voice said from behind Ian. ‘Well, other than my delightful brother.’

Ian grinned and turned around. ‘Hey, Mands.’

Mandy returned his grin and gave him a tight hug. ‘Seriously, though.’

‘No, no. He’s keeping me vertical so I don’t fall over and make an idiot of myself, so _hopefully_ I can pick up a cute holiday fling,’ Ava explained. ‘You free after this?’

Mandy quirked an eyebrow at Ian before turning back to Ava. ‘Am I?’

Ava shrugged and looked accusingly up at Ian. ‘Are you going to introduce me?’

‘Oh,’ Ian smiled innocently. ‘Ava, this is my best friend, and Mickey’s sister, Mandy. Mands, this is Ava, my friend from London. She’s here to help me fix the issue.’

‘Ah,’ Mandy nodded knowingly. ‘That issue,’ she pointed to Mickey, who was standing in the corner eating hors d’oeuvres and chatting idly with a group of people. ‘Or the issue that followed you in?’

Ian exhaled deeply in an attempt to calm himself. ‘Both.’

‘Who _is_ that dude, anyway?’

‘That would be Tom,’ Ava supplied. ‘Assuming you’ve heard about him?’

‘ _That’s_ Tom?’ Mandy asked, looking him up and down. ‘Jesus Christ, Ian.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian agreed. ‘He’s stalking me now.’

‘Want me to give him the old Milkovich once over?’

‘Perhaps not yet.’

‘Just give me the word,’ Mandy said. ‘Now go look at everything. I think those mini burgers from Lana’s wedding are here, and I want to eat them all.’

Ian laughed and waved her away. ‘Go find the burgers. We’ll catch up with you later?’

Mandy nodded. ‘Do that,’ she said, fading into the crowd.

‘Okay, shall we browse?’ Ava asked.

‘Let’s browse,’ Tom interrupted. ‘This stuff is weird. What the Hell is it?’

Ian led them up to a large canvas, a beige-grey background painted with a large, mass of intricate black lines, forming the shape of a tree. He subconsciously touched the one that adorned his skin and said, ‘Yggdrasil. Tree of life, etcetera.’

‘Um. Okay,’ Tom said, walking past it, apparently quite uninterested. ‘This?’

‘Valkyries.’

‘And who’s this guy?’ Tom asked, stopping at a painting Ian had seen before. ‘Looks a bit like you.’

Ian gave a small smile and shook his head. ‘Apollo.’

‘And what, exactly, is this?’

Ian laughed, recognising the painting he and Mickey had worked on together, complete with Mickey’s very particular shapes, and Ian’s fingerpainted heart in the centre. ‘That’s what I call art.’

‘Art?’

‘Mm.’

‘Ian,’ Ava said quietly, tugging his arm and pulling him towards a picture that had Ian drawing in a sharp breath. It was a drawing of Ian, with one side of the paper ripped, like it had been torn from a book or something, and had been put in a frame far too big for it, with a clean, white background. ‘This looks like you. Like… not just your nose or something.’

Ian nodded. ‘I’ve never seen this one.’

‘That’s because I never wanted you to see it,’ Mickey said from behind Ian’s shoulder.

Ian bit his lip and turned slowly to see Mickey standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a half empty glass of champagne. He looked good in his black suit pants and jacket, and deep purple dress shirt. It brought out the blue of his eyes. ‘Hey,’ Ian greeted softly.

Mickey nodded, and flicked his eyes to Ava. ‘Nice to finally meet you, Ava.’

‘You too,’ Ava smiled. ‘God, he’s even hotter in real life,’ she muttered to Ian.

‘I know,’ he replied quietly.

‘What are you doing here?’ Mickey asked.

‘Mandy invited us,’ Ian explained. ‘And I wanted to come see everything.’

‘Mandy, huh?’ Mickey’s eyes narrowed as he started to scan the gallery for his sister.

‘Ava,’ Ian murmured, ‘Do you mind –’

‘My God, Ian, I think this is you!’ Tom said loudly, still staring at the drawing.

Mickey’s eyes zoned in on Tom, and he thumbed his bottom lip slowly, realising who it was. ‘Bring your boyfriend, I see,’ Mickey said lightly.

‘Not my boyfriend.’

‘Not his boyfriend,’ Ava agreed. ‘He stalked us, and he’s not staying at Ian’s place. Please get back with him and fuck like bunnies, because he’s not with Tom, and trust me, he doesn’t want to be.’

Mickey swallowed audibly and walked past them to tap Tom on the shoulder. ‘Tom, right?’

‘Ah, Mickey!’ Tom said, far too much enthusiasm in his voice. ‘How are you?’

‘Good, good. You?’

‘Great! Interesting work, here. All very pagan, isn’t it?’

‘Well, I’m not really a Godly man,’ Mickey mused. ‘Pagans have better deities.’

‘Are you the artist?’

‘I am.’

‘You’re very good. Wasting your talents on something people wouldn’t buy, though.’

If Ian thought the conversation had been going in a strangely civilised manner, then that thought was abruptly killed by Tom’s last sentence. ‘Oh shit,’ Ian muttered, as Mickey’s posture changed into what Ian had heard Mandy call his “beast mode stance”.

Mickey cleared his throat and held his glass backwards to Ian, who took it without a word. ‘Hey, you wanna talk outside? It’s hot and crowded in here.’

‘Oh, sure!’ Tom said. ‘Ian, love, hold my glass?’

Ian stared unhappily at him as he took Tom’s glass, then followed them outside, grabbing Mandy on the way.

‘The fuck, Ian?’ Mandy protested. ‘Totally getting laid by that guy tonight!’

‘What happened to out date?’ Ava pouted.

‘Oh, uh…’

‘Shut up, Mickey’s about to hand Tom’s ass to him,’ Ian hissed, exiting the gallery and leaning casually against the wall beside the door.

 

* * *

 

The first thing that had gone through Mickey’s mind when he saw Tom standing in his gallery was less of a thought, more of a feeling of blinding rage. He pushed it down, not wanting to make a scene, and entered into polite conversation with him, hoping he could draw him outside, and give him the beatdown of his life. And then Tom practically insulted his work, saying no one would want it, and that just added to the list of reasons he wanted to shove this guy’s head up his own ass.

The fact that Ian was there made his heart leap with joy, but he wasn’t focusing on that right now. He handed Ian his glass, then walked Tom outside, and down the street a little bit.

As he rolled his sleeves, Mickey heard Ian say, ‘Mick, just one.’

‘One what?’ Mickey asked innocently.

‘You know what I mean.’

Mickey did know what he mean. That was Ian saying _“Don’t beat him up, or you’ll fuck up your night.”_ And really, it would’ve been the icing on top of the cake, but Ian was right. Fast and furious, and the single most devastating punch Mickey had ever delivered.

‘So what did you want to talk about?’ Tom asked, drawing Mickey’s attention back to him.

‘You,’ Mickey said. ‘You go to Ian’s apartment, expecting somewhere to stay. You fuck up _everything_ , and then go back and ask to be friends with him? And stalk him? To _my_ gallery? Who the fuck do you think you are?’

‘Ian’s first love,’ Tom said proudly.

‘Has no one ever told you that first is worst and second is best?’

Tom narrowed his eyes as he caught on to what was happening. ‘So what, you’re going to kill me and defend your honour? Fight for Ian’s love?’

‘There’s no fight. If you think he loves you, you’re deluding yourself,’ Mickey cracked his neck and his knuckles, clenching his fists. ‘And I’m not going to kill you, because disposing of a body takes time I really don’t have right now.’

‘So what are you going to –’

Mickey shot his fist out and heard a satisfying crunch as Tom’s nose broke and blood streamed out. As Tom staggered back, clutching his nose, Mickey said, ‘Come near Ian again and I _will_ kill you. Understood?’

Tom nodded and started walking backwards, away from Mickey, shooting a hurt look at Ian and Ava.

Ian just shrugged and adjusted himself slightly. God, Mickey was hot when he was angry.

 

* * *

 

As Mickey strode into the garage the next day, he was still revelling in his success from his show at the gallery, having sold over half of his works the previous night. He dropped his things in his locker, ignored the puppy eyes Cody was giving him (seriously – fucking him had been one of the worst decisions he had ever made) and went straight to working on one of the cars in the workshop.

He hummed along with the music playing over the radio as he tinkered with engines to make them run again. His good mood was cut short by a simple, ‘Hi,’ murmured over his shoulder.

Mickey straightened slowly, careful not to hit his head on the bonnet of the car. Ian was standing there in faded jeans, a thick woollen sweater, and his green beanie. ‘What do you want?’ Mickey asked, wiping his hands on a rag from his pocket.

‘Wanted to thank you for last night.’

‘What, punching your boyfriend in the face?’

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Ian said in a tired voice.

‘Good for you,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes and going back to the engine in front of him.

‘Mick,’ Ian said with a sigh. ‘I need your answer.’

‘What answer?’

‘You know what.’

Mickey rested his head against his forearm and stood up again, shooting a cursory glance around the workshop, seeing all the other mechanics, including Andy and Cody, watching them with interest. ‘Can we not do this here?’

‘What, still not out to them?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mickey narrowed his eyes and barked at their audience, ‘This is none of your business.’

They rolled their eyes, but went back to their work, and the radio was even turned up.

‘Mick, my London boss wants an answer in just over a week. I need you to tell me what you want,’ Ian pleaded.

‘Do whatever you want, Gallagher,’ Mickey shrugged.

‘No, that’s not how this works,’ Ian said, taking a step closer. ‘You need to tell me if you want me _here_ or if you want me to go to London.’

‘If you didn’t want to go, you would’ve told your boss by now.’

Ian groaned in frustration. ‘Mickey, I’m waiting for your word! If you want me, I’m here, and I’m yours. You need to tell me you still want me!’

Mickey looked around at everyone who had started watching them again – though slightly more inconspicuously this time. ‘Fuck, Gallagher,’ he groaned. ‘Not now.’

‘Yes, now!’

_Know what? Fuck it._ Time to throw it out there for all his workmates to hear and be witness to. ‘Yes, I fucking want you, asshole. I fucking love you, and you fucking know that.’

‘Then tell me you want me to –’

‘I’m not telling you to stay!’ Mickey interrupted loudly. ‘Because if I do that, and you stay, and you’re miserable, you’ll blame _me_. We’ve had this conversation before.’

‘And look how well it turned out!’ Ian said, throwing his hands up and gesturing at the workshop, like their relationship had been painted across the walls. ‘We’re still fucking here!’

‘Yeah, because you can’t make a fucking decision to save your own Goddamn _life_!’

‘You won’t _help_ me!’

‘I shouldn’t fucking need to!’ Mickey yelled. ‘You’re a grownass fucking man, do it your-fucking-self.’

‘I don’t think you understand how a relationship _works_ , Mickey.’

‘Well, guess what? We’re not in a fucking relationship!’

‘Yeah, because you fucking wanted a _break_!’ Ian cried, finally matching Mickey’s volume.

Fully aware of the entire garage watching them, Mickey took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. ‘You want a fucking answer? Because you can’t make it yourself?’

‘Yes!’

‘Then fuck off to London.’

Ian blinked and took a step back, only just realising they were chest to chest. ‘What?’

‘Fucking go,’ Mickey repeated. ‘If it’ll make you happy –’

‘You make me happy,’ Ian said brokenly. ‘You do.’

‘Then make up your fucking mind. I don’t want to be responsible for your decisions.’

‘But you love me?’

‘Yes, I fucking love you.’

‘And you want me to be happy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you take me back?’

Mickey rubbed his forehead tiredly. ‘One day.’

‘Why not now?’

‘I’m not done punishing myself,’ Mickey said sarcastically, though it was nothing but the truth. He sighed and added quietly, ‘Make the decision best for you. I won’t hold it against you.’

‘You haven’t given me a clear answer, Mick,’ Ian said hollowly.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey looked down to his hands and studied them briefly, picking at the oil blackened skin around the nails. After a few moments, he looked back up to Ian’s hazel eyes, now clouded over with tears threatening to spill. ‘I have.’ _Don’t you fucking dare leave me again._

Ian hunched in on himself as he tucked his hands into his pockets, Mickey’s words turning over in his mind. ‘Mickey, I –’

‘I have work to do, Ian,’ Mickey said, all the emotion gone from his face and voice. ‘You need to go.’

‘Mickey –’

‘Go, Ian,’ Mickey shook his head and tucked the rag he was holding back into his pocket. ‘Please just go.’

‘Can I just –’

‘No.’

‘My book got picked up,’ Ian said, continuing regardless of Mickey’s interruption.

‘Oh,’ Mickey said, much more surprise in his tone than he would’ve liked. ‘That’s great.’

‘Yeah. Just thought I should tell you if this is the last time I’ll…’ Ian’s voice trailed off, and he tugged his beanie down at the back from where it had slid upwards a bit. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey echoed. _Don’t go._

‘I should go.’

_Don’t._ ‘Okay.’

‘Bye, Mick,’ Ian said quietly, turning and leaving hurriedly.

Mickey watched him leave, and stared at the doors for a few moments longer, until it was certain Ian wasn’t coming back. He took a few deep breaths and turned towards the engine, bracing his hands on the edge of the engine compartment. His fingers curled around the lip of the metal into a death grip as it hit him that he’d just told Ian to go back to London. Permanently. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Well, a lot of things, honestly.

This, though. This was his single greatest mistake. Even for a _second_ to suggest that Ian leave was fucking with him, but he had told Ian to stay, too, right? That was what he wanted to stick. Ian would make the right decision, and if he didn’t? Fuck, Mickey didn’t know what he would do.

Cry, cry, and cry some fucking more.

‘Hey, chief,’ Andy said gruffly from behind him. ‘Alright there?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah.’ _Fuck, his voice was thick right now._ Mickey cleared his throat and continued. ‘Fine.’

‘Looked like he was someone important to you.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Best friend, or…’ Andy coughed. ‘Boyfriend?’

‘Boyfriend,’ Mickey laughed hollowly. ‘He was.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Andy asked. ‘We don’t care. Hell, Cody’s gay.’

‘Yeah, I know. I just… I didn’t want anyone to look at me differently.’

‘No one’s lookin’ at you differently,’ Andy said gently, patting Mickey awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘They’re only lookin’ at you strange because you’re over here havin’ some kinda heart to heart and cryin’, and that’s not somethin’ they’re used to, Mick.’

‘What?’

‘You’re the stone cold, right hand man, and you’re cryin’ onto the damn engine,’ Andy said. ‘You want the rest of the day?’

Mickey shook his head. ‘I’m good to stay.’

‘If you say. Any time you wanna leave and go home – or after him – you can.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey sniffed, wiping his eyes messily on the shoulder of his overalls. ‘But I’m gonna stick this one out.’

‘Sure,’ Andy nodded. ‘Then get your butt back to work.’

 

* * *

 

**Text From: Ian**

_i leave in two weeks_

**Text Sent: Ian**

_don't_

**Text From: Ian**

_what?_

**Text Sent: Ian**

_lost the ability to read? i said don’t_

**Text Sent: Ian**

_i don’t want u to go_

 

**Text Sent: Ian**

_u'd be stupid if u thought i meant it_

 

**Text Sent: Ian**

_so don’t u fuckin go anywhere_


	22. Starts with "M" and Ends in "ickey"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know, it's not a long chapter. whatever. also, if you saw/read the spoiler i posted on tumblr last night, then you know that the angst ends here. ur welcome.

‘I have work to do, Ian. You need to go.’

Ian bit his lip, and tried to think of something to say. ‘Mickey –’

‘Go, Ian,’ Mickey said tiredly. ‘Please just go.’

‘Can I just –’

‘No.’

‘My book got picked up,’ Ian said, finally thinking of something that meant he might be able to hang around Mickey a bit longer.

‘Oh,’ Mickey sounded surprised and his eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s great.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian agreed. ‘Just thought I should tell you if this is the last time I’ll…’ Ian faltered. _If this is the last time I’ll see you._ He cleared his throat and tugged on his beanie. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah.’

Ian could tell Mickey felt uncomfortable now, and he knew that the more he tried to talk, the further away he would push him. ‘I should go.’

‘Okay.’

‘Bye, Mick,’ Ian murmured, turning and near on running to the door to get out. His chest felt like it was on the verge of collapse, as he finally made it outside and stood with his back to the building, hunched over as he tried to regain control of his breathing. He needed to get some oxygen to his brain so he could make sense of whatever the fuck had just happened.

In essence, Mickey had told him to go to London, and Ian had no idea if that was reverse psychology, or _what_ the fuck was going on. He didn’t want to stay in New York if Mickey didn’t want him, because really? Mickey was the only thing keeping him there. He loved New York, but he had also grown fond of London in his time there, and ultimately – he would prefer to be where Mickey was.

Mickey had said he still wanted him, though. He still loved Ian, and it wasn’t like Ian had been questioning that, but it was nice to have it confirmed.

So why did he want Ian to go?

Oh, that’s right. Mickey was on a “Do what makes you happy!” train of operation. Right now, nothing would make Ian happier than doing Mickey, but that wasn’t exactly an option, so what? What did he do? At that moment, it seemed like Mickey was never going to let them get back together, so Ian whipped out his phone and sent a reply to Evangeline Heaton – _“I’ll take it.”_

Looking back, it wasn’t Ian’s wisest decision.

 

* * *

 

**Text Sent: Mick**

_i leave in two weeks_

**Text From: Mick**

_don’t_

**Text Sent: Mick**

_what?_

**Text From: Mick**

_lost the ability to read? i said don’t_

**Text From: Mick**

_i don’t want u to go_

**Text From: Mick**

_u'd be stupid if u thought i'd meant it_

**Text From: Mick**

_so don’t u fuckin go anywhere_

Ian stared at his phone, and the rapid texts he was getting. ‘Shit,’ he muttered. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

‘You okay?’ Ava asked, lying face to face with Radar on the floor.

‘No, I – _fuck_ ,’ Ian stood and threw his phone back onto the couch and started pacing. ‘Fuck.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Accepted E’s offer?’ Ian dragged his hands down his face and pushed them back up and through his hair. ‘Mickey told me to go so I fucking said yes to London, and now he’s telling me to stay.’

‘Then stay?’ Ava said, rolling her eyes. ‘How stupid are you to think he meant it in the first place?’

‘He said the exact same fucking thing!’

‘Of course he did. Why did you even say yes in the first place?’

‘Fuck, I – _ugh._ Low point!’ Ian shook his head. ‘I was outside Mickey’s work and he told me to do what I wanted and I thought there was going to be nothing between us anymore because Mickey still loves me but he doesn’t want to get back with me and… I don’t fucking know. Lack of oxygen to my brain.’

‘Definitely a lack of oxygen to your brain,’ Ava agreed. ‘So, what. You still want to go? Or are you staying here?’

Ian blinked. ‘I gotta email E and tell her I changed my mind.’

‘That’s a good idea, yeah.’

 

**Text Sent: Mick**

_don't fuck around with me_

**Text Sent: Mick**

_are u fucking with me rn_

**Text Sent: Mick**

_u better fucking mean it_

**Text From: Mick**

_not drunk and not high_

**Text From: Mick**

_so yes i fuckin mean it_

**Text From: Mick**

_are u busy_

**Text Sent: Mick**

_why_

**Text From: Mick**

_i dont think this is a text convo_

**Text Sent: Mick**

_u want to come over??_

**Text From: Mick**

_that asshole’s not there?_

**Text Sent: Mick**

_just me, ava and radar_

**Text From: Mick**

_leavin now_

‘Ava, you either need to leave, or find noise reducing headphones,’ Ian said, distractedly tapping his fingers against the back of his phone.

Ava raised her eyebrows and looked up at Ian. ‘Why?’

‘Mickey’s coming over.’

‘Gonna sort your shit?’

Ian bit his lip and the drumming of his fingers sped up. ‘I fucking hope so, Ava.’

‘Same,’ Ava said, standing up and brushing the dog fur from her jeans. ‘You’re lucky I brought ear plugs with me.’

Ian’s eyes widened. ‘You’re staying here?’

‘Tell me where, exactly, I’m supposed to go? I don’t know anyone, I’ve got no idea where I am, and I would get lost literally five steps from your building.’ Ava put her hands on her hips and tilted her head challengingly. ‘So if you have any better ideas, then let me know.’

‘Fuck,’ Ian muttered, rubbing a hand tiredly over his eyes. ‘Yeah, fine. You’re right. Store up on food and drink in your room, because this could take a while.’

Ava’s face split into a grin. ‘He’s loud, isn’t he?’

‘He can be,’ Ian conceded. ‘But I’m pretty sure he’s got survival instincts deeply ingrained in him, so he’ll be quiet when he knows there are other people around.’

‘What?’

Ian shook his head. ‘He’s gay, he’s from the Southside, and he had an _extremely_ homophobic father.’

Ava nodded. ‘Ah. So why are you… y’know?’

‘My family, at least, was accepting.’

‘Right,’ Ava said. ‘I’ll get some food, then. Anything you don’t want me to take?’

‘It’s all replaceable, but if there are Poptarts, Snickers bars, or Lucky Charms, you should leave them alone.’

‘Mickey’s food?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Aw. You’re cute.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Get your damn food, Ava.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m going,’ Ava said, raising her hands in surrender and wandering towards the kitchen. ‘Hey, Ian?’

‘Mm?’

Ava gave him a small smile. ‘It’ll work out, I promise.’

Ian nodded. ‘I hope so.’

Ava disappeared from sight, and Ian vaguely registered the sound of packaging rustling, and doors opening and shutting, but he was too concentrated on listening out for a knock on his front door.

Ian had his phone clenched tightly in his hands, and was alternating between sitting on his couch, tapping his foot impatiently, and pacing the length of his living room. He focused on breathing evenly, and had just got it under control when there was a knock. Ian almost tripped over Radar in his haste to get to the door, and scowled at his dog as he opened it.

Ian didn’t say anything, and neither did Mickey, but he walked into Ian’s apartment, and hung his coat on the rack beside the door.

Mickey nodded at him and made his way to the living room to sit on the couch.

Ian followed him and sat on the armchair opposite, siding his phone onto the table. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and finally the lack of speaking got to Ian. ‘I emailed my boss to tell her I changed my mind,’ he said quietly.

Mickey bit his lip and looked down to his hands. ‘So you’re staying?’

‘I told you I would stay if you asked. I don’t want to lose you, Mickey.’

Mickey nodded and twisted his hands together. ‘I’m sorry for fucking Cody.’

‘You know I don’t –’

‘No, please,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘Please just let me speak.’

‘Okay. Sorry,’ Ian murmured. ‘Carry on.’

Mickey took a deep breath and finally looked up to Ian. ‘I’m sorry I fucked Cody, even though we were on a break, and you don’t care, but I do. I thought we were done, and I didn’t want… I didn’t want to feel anything. I had no right to get so fucking annoyed about what you did with Tom because I did worse, and I’m sorry. We lasted so long and we were so happy, and I went and fucked it up by reacting the way I did.’

Ian sighed and got up to sit beside Mickey on the couch. He gently covered Mickey’s hands to stop him from twisting them into uncomfortable looking shapes. ‘Mickey,’ he said softly. ‘You know what I’m gonna say, right?’

‘That you don’t care about any of that.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘I don’t care about any of that.’

‘Okay.’

‘Mick?’

‘Mm?’

‘I’m sorry for forcing my decisions on you because I couldn’t make them,’ Ian stroked his thumbs over Mickey’s knuckles. ‘Right from the beginning of everything, I’ve been doing this to you. I’m sorry I made you choose for me, I’m sorry I got attached to you so quickly, and I’m sorry I chose London over you. So fucking sorry. It wasn’t right for you – for _us_ – and before you say that you don’t matter in my life, I want to say that you do.’

‘Ian –’ Mickey protested.

‘You do, Mickey,’ Ian insisted. ‘You matter to me so much more than I can put into words. You’ve been the only important thing in my life from the moment you told me a joke about a kid getting hit by a fridge, and I’m fucking sorry I put so much pressure on you, when I should’ve just done the right damn thing and stayed with you the whole time.’

‘You remember the fridge joke?’ Mickey asked quietly, glancing up to Ian.

‘Of course, I do. I remember how I watched _Sweeney Todd_ and you slept with your head in my lap, how you used the word “ambient” in an acrostic of my name, and how nervous you were to give me a set of keys to your apartment. I remember the look on your face when I told you about London, when I gave you coffee after the power came on again after that time we painted then fucked in your shower, and I remember how you looked when I gave you the Copic markers.’ Ian gave Mickey a small smile. ‘I remember the look on your face after I rimmed you by candlelight that first time, and how you smiled when we Skyped the first time, and I remember how incredibly beautiful you looked when I arrived back at the airport.’

‘You must have a good memory,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘I remember the things that are important to me, Mick,’ Ian gently took Mickey’s face to turn it back to him. ‘You’re the most important thing to me, and I’m so sorry I did this to us. I’m sorry I hurt you, and that I left you, and that I forced us to break up because of my actions. I’m so sorry.’

Mickey sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and nodded. ‘I know.’

‘I want to put things right between us, Mick. I don’t want this… this _rift_ to stay here. I want to be how we were before I made everything into shit.’ Ian sighed and put his forehead against Mickey’s. ‘We’ve both done things we’ve regret, and I know we’ve both been beating ourselves up for it.’

‘I know,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘We’ve both fucked up.’

‘Will you let us go back to before that?’ Ian asked, moving his hand from Mickey’s jaw, around to the back of his head and down his neck. ‘Can we move past all of this and just… be?’

The moments it took for Mickey to answer felt like eternities. Ian’s heart stopped as he waited, anxiously watching Mickey’s face for any sign of what he would say.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Of course.’

Ian straight out sobbed with relief, and pulled Mickey to him in a bone crushing hug, burying his face into Mickey’s neck and revelling in the feeling of the man he loved in his arms.

Mickey obviously didn’t care that he was having difficulty breathing, if the strength of his arms around Ian was anything to go by. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mickey breathed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I know,’ Ian nodded. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

‘I fucking love you,’ Mickey said hoarsely. ‘So much.’

‘I love you too, and I’m sorry it got to this, Mick.’

‘I know.’ Mickey stroked his hands down Ian’s back, and pressed his face to his shoulder. ‘Ian?’

‘Yeah?’

‘As much as I’m loving this,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘Can we take this to your room?’

‘Is Radar watching us or something?’ Ian said, the emotion making his brain fuzzy and unable to process things correctly the first time.

‘No, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Fuckin’ creeper dog,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘I just… Jesus, don’t make me say it.’

‘Oh…’ Ian pushed his smile into Mickey’s neck. ‘Does it rhyme with “cake dove”?’

‘No, it rhymes with “truck me”.’ Ian could practically hear Mickey rolling his eyes. ‘But yeah. I’ll take that, too.’

‘Okay,’ Ian murmured, detaching himself from Mickey, but keeping hold of his hand and pulling him towards his bedroom.

Mickey followed without a word, gripping Ian’s hand tight, because he felt like if he didn’t, then he might wake up and find this was all a stupid fucking dream. But Ian was something tangible, and as long as he held onto him, he wasn’t gonna float away like dust into the wind.

‘Radar, out,’ Ian said, stopping at the threshold to his room, and waving Radar off his bed. As soon as he was clear of the door, Ian shut it and turned Mickey around to push him against the wall beside it.

They quickly rid themselves of their shirts, and Mickey raked his nails across Ian’s shoulder blades, as the other man got to work on trailing kisses across his clavicles. Ian’s hands flew over the zips for their jeans, and pushed both of theirs down within seconds of the door being shut.

‘Ian,’ Mickey breathed, moving one hand into Ian’s hair. ‘Slow down.’

‘Slow _down_?’ Ian repeated, glancing up.

Mickey nodded. ‘It’s been like nine fucking months, so I don’t want this to be over in like three minutes, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Ian pushed their boxers down and away, and in the back of his head, there was a little part of Mickey’s brain that was quite impressed with how well Ian was multitasking right now.

Mickey spread his legs slightly to allow Ian to move between them and wrap his hands around the backs of Mickey’s thighs to lift him and carry him to the bed.

Mickey got to work sucking up a mark on Ian’s shoulder as he walked them across and lay Mickey gently back on the bed. They stayed there for a while, reacquainting themselves with the other’s body – fingertips trailed lightly over skin, through hair, and came to rest on the side of each other’s face.

‘God, I missed you so much,’ Ian murmured, biting gently into Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey nodded in agreement, and reached between them to jerk them off slowly. He smiled as Ian’s eyes fluttered shut, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips. ‘You’ve got lube here, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian said quietly. ‘Actually asked Debs to get some when I got back.’

‘Sounds like a fun conversation,’ Mickey commented lightly. ‘Wanna get it from wherever, then?’

Ian breathed a laugh and leaned over to get it from the drawer beside Mickey’s pillow. ‘It’s in the same place it’s always been.’

‘Didn’t know you had a dedicated lube drawer.’

Ian rolled his eyes and hitched Mickey’s legs higher up his waist, then squirted some lube onto his fingers and got to work preparing Mickey. ‘Babe?’

‘Mm?’ Mickey bit his lip as the tip of Ian’s finger pressed into him.

‘I don’t want to ask, but I gotta if we’re gonna bareback this.’

‘You wanna know if I wore a rubber when I…’ Mickey trailed off and opened his eyes to look up to Ian. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘He didn’t want me to, but I did, and got tested afterwards anyway.’

‘You’re clean?’

‘I’m clean.’

Ian sighed in relief and rested his head on Mickey’s shoulder, before he pushed his finger all the way and started to move it in and out slowly. ‘I just needed to check.’

‘I know,’ Mickey turned his head to kiss Ian’s cheek, and wrapped his arms tighter around his back. ‘I’m sorry that you had to.’

‘It’s okay,’ Ian replied, adding in a second finger beside the first. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight.’

‘Yeah, haven’t felt much like putting anything in there recently.’

‘Just stuck to sad jerking off?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Probably ended up crying more than coming.’

Ian huffed a laugh. ‘I am so with you there.’

‘God, we’re pathetic,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Okay, I know I said slow, but I meant _good_ slow, not _evolution_ slow.’

‘Forgot how bossy you are,’ Ian murmured, adding a third finger to stretch Mickey. He didn’t want to hurt him after so goddamn long. ‘Say when you want me to get on you.’

‘Kinda just enjoying the making out and the fingering,’ Mickey said, a hint of sarcasm entering his voice. ‘Whenever you want, babe. We’ve gone on less prep than this.’

‘That’s true,’ Ian agreed, removing his fingers and reaching for the lube. ‘Wait, did you call me “babe”?’

‘Am I not allowed to?’

‘No… you’ve just never done it that much.’

‘So? Sue me.’

Ian popped the cap on the lube and got a decent amount on his hand to slick himself up. ‘Okay, ready?’ he asked, lining himself up at Mickey’s entrance.

Mickey nodded and dug his fingers into Ian’s back. ‘Do it.’

Ian sighed as he began pushing in slowly, letting out a low moan as Mickey’s tight heat enveloped him. He bottomed out and gave them both a moment to adjust, before he drew back and started rocking his hips slowly to drag his cock in and out. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered.

‘Christ, Ian,’ Mickey gasped, as Ian brushed his prostate. It would’ve surprised him that Ian managed to hit it so fast, but really – this was Ian, and he knew where each and every single one of Mickey’s buttons was, and had no problem pushing them.

Ian continued with his steady pace, keeping a firm grip on one of Mickey’s legs with one hand, and bracing himself above Mickey with the other. He tried to last as long as he could, but it had been months since he had had sex, and now he was with Mickey, which made him reach tipping point even faster. ‘I’m close, Mick.’

‘I know,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Me too.’

Ian refrained from speeding up, and instead focused on turning Mickey into a writhing mess beneath him, by relentlessly targeting the little bundle of nerves.

Mickey moaned and tightened his legs around Ian, and pulled Ian down to kiss him as he shot ribbons over their chests. Ian followed him moments later, and his head sagged onto Mickey’s shoulder, as the other man stroked his fingers through his hair.

Ian collapsed onto Mickey, pulling out as he rolled to the side.

‘Come back here,’ Mickey murmured, tugging Ian back towards him.

‘Why?’

‘Do I need a reason?’ Mickey asked, cocking an eyebrow in question. ‘I fuckin’ missed you and I’m not ready for you to just _roll away_ again.’

‘Can I at least clean up the jizz dripping out of your ass before we go back to cuddling? I just changed my sheets like three days ago,’ Ian said, grabbing some tissues from beside the bed and going to work wiping up the spunk from Mickey’s chest and between his thighs.

‘You done?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian tossed the tissues at the bin and pulled Mickey to his chest, before he hauled the blankets up over their naked bodies.

Mickey tucked his head under Ian’s chin and wiggled closer to him. ‘I missed this.’

‘I did, too,’ Ian murmured, kissing Mickey’s hair. ‘I want to stay here forever.’

‘We can’t, I’ve got work tomorrow.’

‘Shit. Want me to drive you?’

‘If you want,’ Mickey sighed contentedly. ‘Make me French toast tomorrow?’

‘What am I apologising for?’

‘Nothing. I’m just feeling like I’ll be craving it tomorrow morning.’

‘Yeah, alright. I suppose I could make you French toast.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey pressed his lips to Ian’s shoulder.

‘Sleep time?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Okay,’ Ian wrapped an arm tightly around Mickey. ‘I love you.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Love you too.’

 

* * *

 

‘Good night?’ Ava asked, eyeing up Ian as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. ‘Got a nice mark on your shoulder right there.’

‘Mm,’ Ian yawned and put on the coffee maker. ‘Can’t decide if I like it better when he does that, or when he’s loud.’

‘So I take it everything has been sorted and you two are back to happy boyfriend status?’

Ian nodded and gave her a small smile as he pulled out the ingredients for French toast. ‘More or less.’

Ava grinned and got up from the table to dump her plate in the dishwasher, stopping past Ian to give him a high five. ‘I’d like to thank not only God, but also Jesus, that you got your shit together.’

‘While you’re there, throw in my thanks as well.’

‘Who are we thanking?’ Mickey asked, stepping into the kitchen, wearing boxers and one of Ian’s sweaters.

‘Don’t worry. How did you sleep?’

‘Better than I have in months,’ Mickey said, allowing Ian to envelope him in his arms. ‘Makin’ my toast?’

‘Yup. You can have a shower or something if you want it.’

‘You forget I work with cars, so that’s kind of a waste of time.’

‘Yeah, but you smell like ass.’

‘Thought you liked it when I smell like ass?’ Mickey said, quirking an eyebrow and giving Ian a small smile. ‘How long will that take?’

‘Probably only about ten minutes.’

‘Okay. That’s enough time,’ Mickey pecked Ian’s cheek, and gave Radar a pat on the head as he drifted out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom to shower quickly.

‘Damn,’ Ava said, once she was sure Mickey was out of earshot. ‘You must have a magic dick, because that boy is nothing but rainbows and happiness right now.’

Ian waggled his eyebrows devilishly at her as he mixed the liquid to dunk the bread in. ‘You have _no_ idea.’

‘And, alas, I never will,’ Ava sighed. ‘The tragedy of the situation is only just hitting home. What I wouldn’t give to float around like that.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I love you, but you’re not my type.’

‘What _is_ your type?’

‘Short. Nice ass. Dark hair and blue eyes. Starts with “M” and ends in “ickey”,’ Ian paused thoughtfully. ‘Takes a dick like an absolute champion.’

‘Wow, okay, sorry I asked,’ Ava said, holding up her hands and leaving the kitchen. ‘Have fun with your toast!’

‘Will do!’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, you don’t need to walk me in. I’m not a kid on their first day of school, and you sure as fuck ain’t my parent,’ Mickey protested, as Ian climbed out of his car and followed Mickey to the office of the garage.

‘I know,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘I just figure that if everyone knows you’re gay now, that I could maybe give you a goodbye kiss?’

‘Jesus fuck,’ Mickey muttered, standing on the tips of his toes to lean up and kiss Ian. As he pulled back, he glanced inside and gave Ian an incredulous look. ‘Got nothing to do with the fact that Cody’s there and can see us, does it?’

‘What if it does?’

‘Then I have no problem.’

‘Good,’ Ian grinned, going into the office after Mickey and waiting outside the door to the area where his locker was. ‘So are we defining this yet?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’m good with the term “boyfriend” or “partner” or whatever.’

‘Me too. Working tonight?’

‘Nope.’

‘Come over for dinner.’

‘I’m there,’ Mickey smiled, walking out past him and through to the reception area. He noticed Cody giving him a sad look, so he stopped and put his palms on the desk. ‘Yes?’

‘So you two are together? Or back together? I was right?’ Cody asked, looking between Ian and Mickey.

‘Mhmm, yeah,’ Mickey nodded.

‘I thought that we –’

‘No,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘We were never going to be anything, and I told you that straight off the bat.’

‘But –’

‘You’re not my type.’

‘You don’t strike me as the kinda guy who has a type,’ Cody said, letting a bit of snark enter his voice.

‘Yeah, well. I do.’

‘What is it? Tall? I’m taller than you.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I got a thing for redheads.’

‘I could dye my hair,’ Cody said hopefully.

Mickey shot Ian a look as he pushed open the door to the garage workshop. ‘Yeah, but I’ve seen your equipment, and you ain’t packin’ nine inches.’ Mickey laughed as Cody’s eyes widened. ‘See you later, Gallagher.’

Ian grinned. ‘Later, babe.’

Cody turned to Ian as the workshop door shut behind Mickey. ‘Nine inches?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Gotta eat your vegetables, I guess.’

Cody nodded, like he was making a mental note of that, and Ian decided it was as good a time as any to take his leave. He was halfway to the door, before he darted back and went into the garage after Mickey. He found him already under the hood of a car, and tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

‘Gallagher?’ Mickey asked turning round. ‘What –’

Ian grinned and put his lips against Mickey’s, taking them off as fast as they had been put on. ‘Didn’t get my goodbye kiss.’

Mickey shook his head and took the rag from his pocket, then flicked it at Ian. ‘Get out, loser.’

‘Love you!’ Ian called, as he ran for the door.

‘Fuck off!’


	23. There Is No Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter left after this!

It felt like the break Ian and Mickey had taken had somehow intensified the feelings that were already there. It sounds like a cliché – breaking up, then getting back and being stronger than ever, but that was exactly what happened. The rift that had been between them had repaired and been sealed over, like a break in a road. Now their path was clear, there were no obstacles popping up that they couldn’t overcome, and no gaps big enough that they could sink into. Ian and Mickey were back, they were happy, and fuck – they were ready to take over the damn planet.

Ava had left a few days after Ian and Mickey got back together, but not before Mickey and Ava bonded over their mutual love of teasing the fuck out of Ian. So far, she was the only one that knew anything about them getting back together, but that was mostly because they wanted to stay in their bubble a bit longer, and not involve anyone else – like Mandy, who had been texting them nonstop and pestering them both about getting off their asses and crawling back to each other.

After Mickey received a very whiny call from Mandy, practically _begging_ him to get back with Ian, they decided to let loose with their news.

Seeing as Mickey had been staying at Ian’s a lot, they decided to start by informing the Gallaghers (who had been gunning for their relationship to be reinstated almost as much as Mandy had) before heading over to Mandy’s apartment to let loose the news on her. They figured it would be a good plan to let people who couldn’t kill them without a four hour flight in on it first.

It was mid-afternoon when Ian had finally psyched himself up enough to Skype his family. Mickey was lying on the floor under the window with Radar, laughing at how nervous Ian was, until the other man pointed out that he would have to face Mandy in person. That shut Mickey up pretty fast.

‘Don’t pick up, don’t pick up,’ Ian muttered, bouncing his leg to rid himself of some nervous energy. ‘Damn.’ Ian glanced towards Mickey as the call was accepted. _Help me._

‘Ian!’ Fiona crowed, grinning at her screen as soon as their cameras were both working. ‘Hi!’

‘Hey, Fi,’ Ian smiled. ‘How’re things?’

‘Good! Messy as usual, but who doesn’t love a little chaos in the morning?’

‘Uh… Most people.’

‘True. What can I do for you?’

‘Just um… Checking in,’ Ian said awkwardly.

‘Jesus fuck,’ Mickey scoffed. ‘Just tell her!’

Fiona’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Is that a certain boyfriend I hear?’

At that moment, Ian decided his sister had supersonic hearing, because he had barely heard Mickey. ‘Depends which one you mean?’

‘Mickey Milkovich?’

‘Oh, yeah. Yeah, that would be Mickey.’

‘Bring him here,’ Fiona demanded.

‘Mickey?’ Ian called. _Please save me._

Mickey rolled his eyes and stood up, patting Radar on the head before he came to plop down next to Ian on the couch. ‘Hi, Fiona.’

‘Hello, Mickey,’ she replied, looking between the two of them. ‘So you and Ian are back together?’

‘Yup.’

‘Not gonna fuck it up again, are you?’

‘Nope,’ Mickey shook his head, and barely stopped himself from adding _“ma’am”_ to the end of that. ‘Promise.’

‘Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,’ Fiona warned.

Mickey rubbed the back of his neck and glanced to Ian beside him. ‘I’m not.’

‘So, when’s the wedding, then?’

‘There won’t be one,’ Ian jumped in to answer that one before Mickey could say anything. ‘I think we’re just gonna take it slow, and see what feels right.’

‘That’s a good plan,’ Fiona agreed. ‘Was that all you wanted to tell me?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Pretty much.’

‘Okay. I’ll spread word? Don’t be surprised if Debbie calls you and yells at you because she had to hear it from me.’

Ian laughed. ‘I can handle Debbie, don’t worry.’

‘Mhmm,’ Fiona looked to Mickey again. ‘Seriously, don’t fuck it up.’

‘Scout’s honour,’ Mickey nodded.

‘We’ve gotta go see Mandy, but talk later, yeah?’ Ian said.

‘Yeah, later,’ Fiona smiled. ‘I’m glad you two are happy again.’

‘So are we. Bye, Fi.’

‘Bye, guys,’ Fiona said giving them a small wave.

Ian ended the call and shut his laptop. He turned to Mickey and put his hands on his shoulders. ‘We really do need to be going.’

Mickey grimaced. ‘Does Mandy really need to know, though?’

‘Yeah, I think she does.’

‘Ugh,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘You’re probably right. I told her you were gonna propose and she almost ripped my head off my shoulders because we broke up instead.’

‘To be fair, I kind of wanted to rip your head off your shoulders when you suggested it, as well.’

‘Well, if you had, then that would completely cross off any chance of it happening in future, right?’

Ian quirked an eyebrow in surprise, but lowered it just as fast. ‘Oh really?’ he asked, trying to act nonchalant.

‘Yup,’ Mickey chirped. ‘Head gone, I die. Biology, or something.’

‘So does that mean that because you still have your head, that it’s not a total impossibility in the future?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ _Let’s not have this conversation._ ‘Probably time to head to Mandy’s, right?’

Ian sighed and rolled his eyes at Mickey’s attempt to deflect the question. ‘Yeah, probably. Did she tell you to bring anything?’

‘Nope, but we might need to bring… I don’t know. Bags, or something. In case she cuts off limbs,’ Mickey said thoughtfully. ‘Wouldn’t put it past her.’

‘Neither,’ Ian leaned over to kiss Mickey’s cheek quickly, before he stood and hauled Mickey to his feet as well. ‘We should bring snacks. It’s a movie marathon, right?’

‘No idea. She said “Come over, we’re gonna talk about boys and watch shit on TV,” so that could mean anything.’

‘Probably that she was gonna ambush you and make you talk to me,’ Ian suggested, walking to his kitchen and pulling stuff out of his cupboards.

‘Looks like I bet her to the punch, huh?’ Mickey grinned.

‘Indeed you did,’ Ian smiled. ‘This enough food, you think?’

‘We’re not feeding an army. That’s more than enough,’ Mickey said, eyeing up the mountain of food Ian had put on the counter. ‘And put my fucking Poptarts back in the cupboard, or so help me God, I will shove the entire box up my ass so no one can get them.’

Ian sighed. ‘As interested as I am in that suggestion, I don’t think we have time.’

‘Then put the box back or I’ll make time.’

Ian rolled his eyes and pulled a bag from somewhere to dump the food into. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

 

* * *

 

As Ian and Mickey walked down the hall to Mandy’s apartment, Mickey said quietly, ‘If we don’t make it out alive, you know I love you, right?’

‘We’ll get out alive,’ Ian replied, knocking on Mandy’s door. ‘Promise.’

Mandy’s door flew open to reveal the woman herself in somewhat of a rage. ‘Mickey, you were meant to be here an hour ago, you fucking –’ Mandy stopped as she noticed her brother wasn’t alone. ‘Ian?’

‘Surprise!’ Ian grinned, holding up his bag of food. ‘We brought snacks!’

Mandy blinked and looked between the two of them, before deciding to go back into her living room and sit quietly on the couch.

Ian and Mickey followed her in and shut the door, kicking off their shoes and sitting beside her. ‘So what are we watching?’ Ian asked.

Mandy turned to them so fast her neck cracked. ‘How long have you two been back together?’

‘Uh… Couple weeks?’ Mickey said.

‘And you didn’t think _“Oh, maybe I should tell Mandy! She wants to know this shit!”_ so you kept it to yourself?!’ she cried, punching Mickey viciously in the shoulder. ‘You _asshole_!’

‘Ow, fuck, Mandy!’ Mickey yelled, rubbing his arm.

‘Technically, Mands, it was my fault,’ Ian said quickly. ‘I told him not to say anything until we were sure.’

‘Then I should be punching you, right?’

‘Uh… no. Punch him. He can take it.’

‘Ian,’ Mickey said through gritted teeth. ‘You’re not helping.’

‘Sorry, babe,’ Ian murmured, smiling apologetically at him.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mandy muttered. ‘Back to calling each other “babe” already.’

‘At least we’re talking again,’ Ian pointed out.

Mandy raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing smile. ‘More than talking, I’m thinking.’

‘Well –’

‘That’s really none of your business,’ Mickey interrupted, glaring at Ian beside him. ‘Um, so, what movie did you want to watch?’

‘ _Harry Potter_ ,’ Mandy said, switching on the TV and getting up to put a DVD in the player. ‘I feel like I need more of that hot Ukrainian dude in my life.’

‘Who?’

‘I think she means Viktor Krum,’ Ian said. ‘And he’s Bulgarian.’

Mandy paused, DVD case in her hands. ‘Is he?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Oh.’ Mandy shrugged and went back to putting the movie in. Once the slot had slid closed, she sat back on the couch. ‘You said you brought snacks?’

Ian grinned and passed her the bag. ‘Of course I did.’

Mandy smiled happily and nudged Mickey in the ribs as she rifled through the bag. ‘See, Mick? A man who brings food without being asked is the kinda guy you should marry.’

Mickey groaned, as Ian and Mandy high fived quietly behind him.

 

* * *

 

It had been a few months since Ian and Mickey had gotten back together. The launch of Ian’s debut novel was looming on the horizon, and really, it was the only thing putting any sort of stress on their relationship.

Ian was getting antsy and fidgety, and Mickey would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to find that he was sitting in the living room, reading random Wikipedia articles and eating a shitload of “healthy junk food” because he couldn’t sleep. It was kind of ridiculous, and it got to the point where Mickey told Ian that he could only stay at Mickey’s apartment if he promised to sleep through the night, or that he would only stay at Ian’s for the same reason.

Mickey thought they should probably move in together at some point, but he didn’t want to ask, just in case Ian said no. Which was a totally irrational fear, because Ian had been hinting at it for weeks. Mickey had just been pretending to have no idea what Ian was talking about.

Ian had been saying shit like _“Maybe you should leave more of your clothes here? I’ll clear a drawer or two for you, and half my closet,”_ then calling him Radar’s _“other daddy”_ and Mickey’s personal favourite hint, _“You could always get your mail delivered here, if you want? You’re here more than at your apartment.”_

Honestly, the whole notion of it scared the shit out of him. Mickey loved Ian, he wanted to be with him, and move in, and be Radar’s other “parent”, but it seemed so… permanent. Stable. Mickey had always wanted stability like Ian in his life, but now it was staring him right in the face, and he was piss scared. Maybe it was a good kind of scared. Mickey had been scared of his father more than anything else he had ever encountered in life, and the thought of moving in with Ian and everything that came with him, evoked completely different feelings in him.

And Mickey didn’t quite know what to think of it.

So he turned to the one person he knew he would get a straight answer from.

 

* * *

 

‘Mickey?’

Mickey looked up from his phone as Svetlana slid into the booth opposite him. They were in a little diner just down from Ian’s apartment, and Mickey had picked here because he knew that they made the best burgers in town. ‘Hey,’ he greeted, giving her a small smile.

‘Why did you want me here?’ she asked, skipping straight to the point.

‘Uh…’ Mickey rubbed the back of his neck and gestured at the menu as a waitress approached their table. ‘You want anything to eat?’

‘Hi there!’ the waitress said. ‘What can I get you both?’

‘Strawberry milkshake,’ Svetlana replied.

‘That really good burger and a chocolate milkshake,’ Mickey smiled, giving the waitress the menus.

‘Sure thing, Mickey,’ she grinned. ‘Won’t tell Ian.’

‘I’d appreciate it.’

The waitress laughed and walked away, calling back over her shoulder, ‘Order will be out soon.’

‘Come here often?’ Svetlana asked.

Mickey shrugged. ‘Sometimes we can’t be fucked cooking. Ian thinks they make good salads.’

‘Of course,’ Svetlana rolled her eyes. ‘Why am I here?’

‘I need some advice.’

‘On..?’

Mickey took a deep breath and let it out in one go. ‘I think Ian’s gonna ask me to move in with him and I’m kind of scared but I want to and I don’t really know what to do because I love him and he’s stable and _good_ but I don’t know if I want to do it because that’s _too_ stable for me and it’s a weird and scary thought so what the fuck am I supposed to do?’

Svetlana rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. ‘ _Men_. You love him, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want to move in with him?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then what is the problem?’ she asked, looking behind Mickey as their waitress came back with their food.

The waitress set the two milkshakes on the table between them and the plate of a burger and fries in front of Mickey. ‘Anything else?’

‘We’re good for now, thanks,’ Mickey said, smiling up at her.

‘Okay, let me know if that changes!’

‘Will do.’

‘What is the problem?’ Svetlana repeated, as the waitress left.

‘I suppose…’

‘There is no problem.’

‘Yeah. What if –’

‘Do not think “what if” because you will only prepare for what will not happen,’ Svetlana interrupted, stealing one of Mickey’s fries. ‘Go with your heart.’

‘My heart is a fucking idiot,’ Mickey muttered, picking up his burger.

‘But it has got you this far, yes?’ Svetlana said, gesturing at him with another of his fries. ‘You and your heart are smarter than you think.’

‘Doubt it.’

‘Doubt will kill your heart.’

Mickey took a bite of his burger and regarded her silently as he chewed and swallowed. ‘Where the fuck did all this guru, philosophic shit come from?’

Svetlana shrugged. ‘I am smart. Listen to my heart.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever.’

 

* * *

 

The day of Ian’s book launch rolled up, and Mickey could tell that his partner was on the verge of vomiting with nerves – mainly because Ian was telling him so every five and a half minutes. Mickey had taken the night off work to accompany Ian to the launch, and as they drove to the place it was being held (Mickey at the wheel, of course – Ian would’ve steered them into oncoming traffic, probably) Mickey was almost regretting it.

‘Mickey, holy shit, I’m going to die,’ Ian moaned, leaning back and clutching at his heart. ‘What if everyone hates it? What if it’s a total flop?’

‘It won’t be,’ Mickey said soothingly. ‘It won’t be a flop. It’ll do great.’

‘But how do you _know_?’

‘Because it was written by you,’ Mickey smiled. ‘And you’re amazing.’

‘You really think so?’ Ian asked.

‘Of course. You need to calm down and have a few deep breaths, okay?’

‘I’ll try,’ Ian said. A few minutes later, they rounded the corner of the street and came upon the venue, and Ian started babbling again.

Mickey sighed and parked the car, walking around to Ian’s side in hopes of killing his nerves somehow. As Ian climbed from the car and shut his door, Mickey put his hands on Ian’s shoulders and rubbed them up and down his arms. ‘Ian,’ he said, smoothly interrupting Ian’s talking. ‘Shut up.’

‘Mickey,’ Ian whimpered. ‘They’re going to hate it, and I’ll be a failure.’

‘They won’t hate it, okay? They’ll love it. They’ll love _you_ ,’ Mickey smiled encouragingly and felt Ian relax slightly under his hands. ‘You’re a social caterpillar –’

‘Social butterfly.’

‘Whatever. You’re a social butterfly, and everyone wants to be around you and love you, because you have charisma out your ass, okay? They’ll love _you_ if nothing else, and being loved is a pretty good feeling.’

‘How do you know they’ll love me?’

‘It’s impossible not to,’ Mickey said simply. ‘Now are you ready to go in there and make this launch your bitch?’

Ian bit his lip. ‘Make the launch my bitch.’

‘Yup. You good?’

‘I think so.’

‘Good.’ Mickey used the remote to lock Ian’s car, and took his hand, pulling him into the building and towards the launch party.

 

* * *

 

Mickey was bored out of his fucking _mind_. He had no idea who any of these fuckers were, apart from Mandy, Svetlana and Flynn, who had also come. They were standing in a corner near where the food entered, stealing all the best hors d’oeurves and drinking champagne.

Ian was, predictably, doing fucking perfectly. He was floating around like a certain winged arthropod, and smiling and laughing in all the right places, making friends and connections all across the board.

From what Mickey had heard, the book was going to be everything _but_ a flop. He had overheard a few people saying that Ian was going to be the next greatest thing, and his heart had swelled with pride.

Almost two hours into the party, Ian re-joined Mickey and the others in their corner. ‘Hey,’ he smiled. ‘It’s going good, right?’

‘Seems like it,’ Mickey agreed.

‘Have you seen it? My book?’ Ian asked excitedly. He held up his hand, which had a copy of the book in it, and gave it to Mickey. ‘Look.’

‘It’s great, Ian,’ Mickey smiled, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

‘Read the dedication.’

‘The what?’

Ian rolled his eyes and flipped open the book, going a couple of pages in. ‘The dedication, asshole.’

 

_For M._

_Thank you for being with me during this process, even if you didn’t know you were._  
 _The inspiration and unwavering belief in me that you provided was more than I could hope for._  
 _I know we’ve hit a few potholes and speedbumps on the road to where we are, but I wouldn’t_  
 _change it – or you – for the world, because you have become my everything._  
 _I love you like a plant loves sunlight, and always will._

_-I._

Mickey shut the book, and looked up to Ian. ‘Plants don’t really _love_ sunlight. Most types need it to survive.’

‘I know,’ Ian nodded. ‘It’s a fundamental aspect to their respiration process. That’s what you are, Mick. Sunlight. Needed to survive.’

Mickey smiled and hit him gently with the book. ‘You’re such an idiot.’

‘Yeah, but you love me, so who’s _really_ the bigger idiot out of the two of us?’ Ian countered.

‘Good point.’

‘You know,’ Ian said quietly. ‘My mother told me a story once. Literally, once.’

‘Okay…’

‘She told me a story about how some people are two souls that were originally one, and are in love before even being born, making them actual soul mates. They search for each other all their lives, and if they’re lucky, they find their way to be together.’

‘Right…’ Mickey said, going along with it.

‘And I feel like that describes us,’ Ian said simply. ‘I’ve never felt incomplete, like I was missing something. I’ve always just felt like I was _looking_ for something. And that something, I think, was you.’

‘Okay…’

‘Mick,’ Ian said, taking the book from Mickey’s hands, and passing it to Mandy. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Anything.’

Ian took their glasses and set them on the table between Svetlana and Flynn. ‘Don’t get all pissy at me and run away, okay?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Okay…’

‘I love you, right? Like, a lot. And I always will. Until the stars fall from the sky, and mountains blow in the breeze, and I want to see you every day. I want to fall asleep next to you, and wake up with you still there, and I want it every day.’ Ian sighed and picked up Mickey’s hands, probably pausing for effect, as he looked down and rubbed his thumbs over Mickey’s tattooed fingers.

_Oh, fuck._ Mickey thought. _He’s fucking proposing._

‘So I guess, what I want to ask you is…’ Ian looked up and smiled. ‘Will you move in with me?’

Mickey blinked. ‘What?’

‘Move in?’ Ian repeated. ‘I think we’ve been dancing around it for long enough, don’t you?’

‘Uh…’

‘Mickey,’ Svetlana said in a cautioning tone. ‘Remember what I said?’

_There is no problem. Listen to your heart._ ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ Ian asked. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, okay. I’ll move in,’ Mickey confirmed.

Ian grinned and moved forward to kiss Mickey deeply. He wrapped his arms around Mickey’s waist and hugged him tightly to his chest. After a few moments, he stepped back and cleared his throat. ‘I have another question.’

‘Yeah?’ Mickey asked, slightly breathlessly.

‘Do you think we should get another dog?’

Mickey’s answer was instantaneous. ‘Hell fucking yeah, I do!’

‘Great!’ Ian’s eyes flicked to the group of their friends over Mickey’s shoulder briefly, before he focused back on Mickey. ‘One more thing.’

‘Mm?’

Ian dropped one of Mickey’s hands to put his own inside his jacket. He pulled out a small box and took a knee in front of Mickey. ‘I don’t know how many fucking times I’ve tried to do this now. At least two, I think.’

‘Oh my God,’ Mickey said. _He’s actually proposing._

‘I’m really fucking hoping you won’t turn me down, because that would be really fucking embarrassing, seeing as I know hardly any of these people,’ Ian huffed a laugh and cracked open the ring box. ‘So please, Mickey Milkovich. Please, will you make me happier than anyone has ever been, and be my husband?’

_There is no problem._ A slow smile spread across Mickey’s face. _Listen to your heart._ ‘Yes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _CRIED A LITTLE BIT WRITING THE LAST WORD._


	24. Russian Salad Without Potatoes and Dressing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's now like 3:50am, and i've just finished editing this. i might be crying a bit, but that's completely irrelevant. now for the obligatory thank you speech.
> 
> thank you so so so much to everyone who has been commenting, reading, leaving kudos and bookmarking and subscribing to this fic. your support has been utterly overwhelming, and i love each and every one of you for taking the time to pay attention to this, in even the smallest ways. 
> 
> so yeah. final chapter of firebird. i hope it's a worthy end ♥

Mickey had a lot less shit in his apartment than he had originally thought. The furniture and everything had come with the place, which was handy, because it meant that it only took one trip with two cars to get all his shit to Ian’s.

The spare bedroom had been designated as Mickey’s new studio, because it was unlikely that they would have anyone coming over soon, so it didn’t really matter. Once it had been set up, easels and boxes all arranged how Mickey liked, Ian’s apartment felt even more like his home. As he rolled his rack of unfinished paintings into the room, it hit Mickey that he actually, _officially_ lived here now.

He smiled as he went over to his pile of boxes, found the one marked _“BATHROOM?? KITCHEN?? IDK”_ and pulled the rubber duck mat from the side. Mickey wandered into Ian’s bathroom, and put it on the floor of the shower.

‘What are you doing?’ Ian asked, coming up behind Mickey and wrapping his arms around his waist.

‘Making the bathroom compliant with safety regulations or whatever,’ Mickey explained, turning around and beaming at Ian as he put his arms around his neck. ‘Mandy would be disappointed if we both slipped over and broke our necks before we could get married.’

‘So… she’d be fine with us breaking our necks _after_ the wedding?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Probably.’

‘Incredible,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Good thing I like the mat.’

‘I don’t like having shower sex with ducks watching us,’ Mickey said. ‘I mean, especially when we’re done and they’re covered in jizz. It’s just…’

‘Wrong?’

‘So wrong.’

‘But so right?’

‘Oh so right.’

Ian grinned. ‘You’re all moved in, now?’

‘I’m all moved in,’ Mickey confirmed. ‘Gotta unpack my shit, but everything’s here.’

‘You brought your art, too, right?’

‘Of course, I did.’

‘Do you still have the ones you didn’t sell at the gallery?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘Yeah… If they didn’t sell, I didn’t _want_ to sell them. I’ve got fucking custom orders coming out my ass right now, Gallagher. You know that.’

‘Can I hang one of them in our bedroom?’ Ian asked. As Mickey bit his lip and grinned, Ian quirked a brow. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Mickey said softly. ‘Just… _our_ bedroom. Not _your_ bedroom. Ours.’

‘Yeah…’ Ian nodded slowly, allowing that to sink in with Mickey. ‘So, can I?’

‘Depends which one.’

‘Proto-me.’

Mickey groaned and shook his head. ‘No. Absolutely not. I hate it. Looks nothing like you.’

‘Mickey, please,’ Ian said, rubbing his thumbs into Mickey’s hipbones. ‘It’s the first drawing you ever did of me, and it makes me look more attractive than I actually am. It’s romantic, how you were drawing me after one look.’

Mickey sighed and knocked his head into Ian’s shoulder. ‘It doesn’t.’

‘Huh?’

‘It doesn’t make you look more attractive,’ Mickey explained, looking up to Ian. ‘You’re better as you are.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Mm. Definitely.’

Ian shrugged, and took one of Mickey’s hands, pulling him to the group of bubble wrapped frames leaning against the hallway wall. ‘Which one is it?’ he asked, pawing through them.

Mickey sighed again and rolled his eyes, pulling out the frame Ian was looking for. ‘This one.’

Ian grinned and took it to the kitchen to cut the tape holding the bubble wrap. He pulled the plastic away, and frowned at the picture. ‘This isn’t the one I wanted, Mick.’

‘I know,’ Mickey said, leaning against the counter behind him. ‘I did that one a couple of weeks ago. Redrew it more accurately but in the same style.’

‘But… it looks better than the other one.’

‘That’s because how you actually are is more beautiful than that idealised one that I drew in a state of infatuation,’ Mickey stated matter-of-factly. ‘You’re better.’

Ian gave him a small smile. ‘I love it.’

‘I know,’ Mickey nodded. ‘You’re a modern day Narcissus. Don’t knock yourself out trying to kiss yourself in the mirror.’

Ian laughed and ventured through the apartment, over to the hook he must’ve put in the wall in preparation. He put the frame on, and stood a few feet back to admire the picture. ‘I really do love it, Mick,’ he said, pulling Mickey into his side and kissing his hair. ‘You’re so talented and amazing I want to cry sometimes.’

‘Please don’t cry. I fuckin’ hate when you cry.’

‘Don’t like to see me sad?’

‘No, I don’t do tears. It makes me feel awkward,’ Mickey said bluntly.

‘Wow, thanks for the outpouring of care, Mickey.’

‘You’re welcome.’

 

* * *

 

Now that Mickey had finally agreed to marry Ian, he found himself having to actually help _plan_ it. Mandy and Debbie, it seemed, had become best friends via Skype and were lending a very helpful hand in things, because Ian only had a limited idea of what he was doing and Mickey? Mickey was pretty much useless, unless you wanted to discuss food or place cards.

Ian and Mickey were in the midst of having a three-way Skype call with their unofficial wedding planners, and they were having difficulty staying awake. They were sitting at the table instead of at the couch, because that was just too tempting to fall asleep on. After about half an hour of discussions about flower arrangements, Ian excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Mickey hardly even noticed he had gone, but he definitely knew when he got back, because there was a hand pulling down his sweatpants and a mouth slipping around his cock. Mickey’s eyes flew open and he jumped, slamming his knee into the underside of the table.

Mandy and Debbie paused in their talking and looked to Mickey. ‘You alright, Mick?’ Mandy asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

Mickey nodded enthusiastically and faked nonchalance as Ian licked a long stripe up the underside of his dick. ‘Fine, perfectly _f-_ fine.’

‘If you say so,’ Mandy replied, going back to her talking with Debbie.

Mickey shakily moved his hand across to the touchpad and turned his microphone onto mute. ‘The fuck are you doing?’ he hissed at Ian. ‘Get back up here!’

‘Bored,’ Ian murmured, stroking Mickey’s cock to full hardness and teasing the slit with his tongue. ‘Would rather do this.’

‘Me too, but –’

‘Are you gonna complain?’ Ian asked, sticking his head out from under the table and staring up at Mickey incredulously. ‘Would you seriously rather discuss flowers and fall asleep than be blown by your totally gorgeous fiancé?’

Mickey bit his lip and smiled at Ian. _Fiancé._ ‘Fine, but make it quick.’

‘You’re the one who’s gotta make it quick,’ Ian muttered. ‘I’m not getting up till you’re done.’

Mickey sighed and slid down in the chair slightly. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, I’m turning the microphone on.’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian hummed, closing his lips around the head again.

‘Mickey?’ Debbie asked. ‘You with us?’

‘What?’ Mickey said distractedly. ‘What was the question?’

‘Where’s Ian?’

‘Taking a dump.’

‘Gross. Um. What are your thoughts on big centrepieces?’

‘How big?’ Mickey said, tensing when he felt Ian’s finger prodding around his hole.

‘Couple feet high? Feathers and flowers?’

‘No _fucking_ feathers,’ Mickey said, a strange lilt entering his voice as Ian started focusing his attention into the head of his cock. ‘Uh… just s – _fuck_ – small… things.’

‘Are you okay?’ Mandy asked. ‘Really?’

‘Fucking fant- _ah-_ stic.’

Ian pushed his finger in up to the first knuckle and withdrew it again, going in and out to get Mickey used to the feeling. He hummed around Mickey’s dick, as he took the whole length into his mouth.

‘Mickey…’

‘Jesus, I’m fine!’

‘Okay… Well, we need some of your input for the cen–’

‘Unscented candles!’

‘Unscented candles?’

‘Yep! That all?’ Mickey asked, gripping the edge of the table.

‘Well –’

‘Great! Gotta go!’ Mickey said, exiting the call and slamming the laptop shut. ‘Gallagher, get up, we’re going to the bedroom.’

‘Fucking _finally_ ,’ Ian said, removing his finger and exiting from under the table. He started walking off down the hall, and pulled off his shirt as he did so. ‘Coming?’ he called back.

‘Fuck,’ Mickey muttered, watching Ian go. He shed his pants at the chair he had been sitting on, and jogged after Ian, throwing his shirt off as he entered the hall.

‘I’m _waiting_!’

‘I’m coming!’

‘Soon you will be!’

 

* * *

 

Ian knew Mickey was working on the canvas for behind their table at the wedding. They had set a date for just over three months away, so it wasn’t like Mickey didn’t have much time, but it seemed like it was all he was able to do at the moment, like he was a man possessed.

Because Ian knew that Mickey was working on that piece, it kind of startled him to hear the music he was painting to one Saturday afternoon. It was loud and angry sounding, and Ian knew the tune well, despite not being able to make out the lyrics clearly.

He stopped and knocked at the door to Mickey’s studio, and was surprised when Mickey actually answered and opened it.

‘Yes?’ Mickey asked, poking his head out of the gap.

‘Why are you listening to that song?’

‘Hmm?’

Ian rolled his eyes and started singing along with the chorus. ‘ _I hate everything about you_ –’

‘ _Why do I love you?_ ’ Mickey finished and shrugged. ‘It works.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘It gets me painting. Doesn’t mean I hate you, and you know that.’

‘Do I?’ Ian asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I’d fuckin’ hope so, I’m marryin’ you, ain’t I?’

Ian grinned. ‘That you are. Can I see it?’

‘Hell fuckin’ nope, you can’t. It’s gonna be a surprise!’

‘You know I hate surprises.’

‘And you know exactly how many fucks I don’t give.’

‘I hate you,’ Ian said simply.

‘No, you _looove_ me,’ Mickey grinned, leaning out and up to kiss Ian. ‘Making dinner?’

‘I suppose. What do you want?’

‘Those chicken things you made last week? With the crunchy stuff and the wraps and that killer sauce?’ Mickey asked hopefully.

Ian narrowed his eyes. ‘What do I get in return?’

‘Mm… Me?’

Ian laughed. ‘Yeah, alright. Seems like a fair trade.’

‘Dunno, man. I think I’m getting the better end of the deal.’

 

* * *

 

‘What kind of dog do you wanna get?’ Mickey asked, eight weeks before the wedding as they sat at the table completing the placecards.

‘Hmm?’ Ian replied, looking up as he finished gluing on one of the components.

‘Dog, man. I wanna get one soon.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘I don’t really care what you want to get, but my only requirement is that it comes from a shelter.’

‘That was my plan anyway,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Radar got his balls chopped?’

Ian put his glue stick on the table and leaned down to tenderly cover his dog’s ears. ‘Don’t say it like that, he’s very sensitive and insecure.’

‘So that’s a yes?’

‘Yes, my dog has been neutered.’

‘Okay.’

‘Why?’

‘Just… y’know. In case we end up getting a girl. Don’t need puppies on our hands.’

Ian blinked at him. ‘I’m sorry, we don’t need puppies on our hands? Then why the fuck are we _getting_ a puppy?!’

‘Pupp _y_ is fine. Pupp _ies_ is not.’

‘Yeah, I suppose that’s true.’

‘And I’m choosing it,’ Mickey added.

‘We’ll come to a mutual decision.’

‘But I get like… seventy-five percent of the vote.’

Ian dithered, knowing that Mickey had the potential to make a devastating choice. From the way that Mickey was looking at him, though, Ian had no choice but to agree. ‘Fine.’

Mickey grinned and darted forward to kiss him quickly. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Great! You think we’re done with these fuckin’ place cards yet?’

‘We’ve got… three left, I think.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ. How many people are coming?’

‘Ask Debbie. Or Mandy. Pretty sure that one of them has a copy of the final guest list.’

‘And we don’t?!’

Ian looked up from where he was tying a Debbie-mandated ribbon through a card. ‘We’re the ones getting married. Why the fuck would we know who’s attending?’

Mickey nodded. ‘That is an excellent point, fiancé.’

‘I certainly agree, fiancé.’

Mickey smiled and bit his lip. ‘Have you started your vows yet?’

Ian shook his head. ‘Not yet. Don’t worry – won’t leave them until the night before. Have you?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, cutting a piece of… what was this shit? Parchment? ‘I’m not the published author, man. I gotta work on mine and try to show you up.’

‘Anything you write will be perfect,’ Ian said softly. ‘Besides, I’m not there for the vows. I’m there for you.’

Mickey bowed his head and made like he was concentrating on the movement of his scissors, as he tried to hide the blush creeping over his face. ‘You’re such a sappy bastard.’

‘Hey,’ Ian said, catching Mickey’s cheek and tilting his head gently up. ‘You’re the one who agreed to this.’

‘You’re the one who asked,’ Mickey replied. ‘Three times.’

‘If I want something, I’m gonna go after it.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian stroked his thumb over Mickey’s cheek. ‘Oh fuck.’

‘What?’

‘I just got glue all over your face.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Not the first time you’ve put something white and sticky on my face, is it?’

Ian laughed. ‘Probably won’t be the last, either.’

 

* * *

 

‘Mick, remember,’ Ian said, as they walked into the main office of the shelter. ‘We’re making a joint decision.’

‘Yup, but I get seventy-five percent of the vote.’

‘We’ve got to think what Radar would get along with.’

Mickey stopped and stared at him incredulously as they reached the front desk. ‘Please. That dog wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘He’s a German Shepherd, babe. They can be quite… violent.’

‘Not yours.’

‘Hi!’ a young man said, coming up from the back office to tend to them at the front desk. ‘How can I help?’

‘Hi,’ Ian smiled, his eyes drifting quickly to the guy’s name tag - _Troy_. ‘We’re looking to adopt a dog?’

‘Dog or puppy?’

‘Either,’ Mickey said, interrupting whatever Ian had been about to say.

‘Okay, cool,’ Troy replied. ‘If you want to follow me.’ He led Ian and Mickey down a short corridor and to a door, where a lot of barking could be heard coming from. ‘These are all our dogs and puppies. I’ll let you look around, and I’ll be back in about ten or fifteen minutes. Please, don’t put your fingers into the cages, for obvious reasons.’

‘We’ll keep that in mind,’ Ian nodded. ‘Right, Mickey?’

Mickey was already gone, peering into cages, and looking at the dogs inside. He waved a hand at Ian and made a noncommittal noise.

Ian rolled his eyes and thanked Troy again, before going off to join his partner. ‘What are you looking for?’

Mickey looked back at him briefly, then back to inside the cages. ‘I’m looking for a dog that catches my eye.’

‘Which is…’

Mickey walked past a few more cages, then came to stop at one with a stocky, yet lean, caramel coloured dog inside it. ‘This.’

Ian frowned, and looked to the dog in the cage, then back to Mickey. ‘This one?’

Mickey nodded. ‘This one.’

‘Any particular reason why?’

Mickey nodded again. ‘Yeah,’ he said softly.

‘Gonna tell me why?’

‘Not right now. Later.’

Ian nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘It’s not too old, yet, either. Maybe five or six months,’ Mickey murmured, almost to himself.

‘Mickey?’

‘How are you guys doing?’ the shelter dude’s voice rang out over the barking and howling.

‘Uh…’ Ian looked between Mickey, the dog, and the attendant. ‘I think we’ve picked one.’

Troy came over to see which dog they were with. ‘Ah. She’s been here for almost a month.’

‘What breed is she?’

‘Staffy cross,’ Mickey answered, looking to Troy. ‘Right?’

‘Mm. Boxer, we think,’ Troy nodded. ‘You know these types of dogs?’

Mickey nodded. ‘I do. Where did she come from?’

Troy rubbed his forehead and sighed. ‘If you know these dogs, you can probably guess.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘She okay?’

‘She’s fine. Still pretty skittish around people, though. Have you got any other dogs?’

‘German Shepherd,’ Ian replied.

‘Okay. We’ve introduced her to a few of the other dogs, and she was fine. We were told that she was caged with her siblings and a couple of Shepherds, so they should be good together. Take it slow, yeah?’

‘Yeah, definitely,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Do we need to sign any papers or whatever?’

Troy nodded. ‘Do you want to meet her first?’

Mickey smiled and moved aside so Troy could unlock the cage door. ‘Try not to scare her.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and stepped into the cage, crouching down and holding his hand out, palm down for the dog to sniff.

She slowly crept forward from the corner where her bed was to tentatively sniff Mickey’s hand.

Once she had accepted that he was okay, and moved a few inches closer, Mickey slowly stroked the underside of her chin. ‘There we go,’ he murmured. ‘Yeah, you’re good, aren’t you?’

The dog looked up at him with round, brown eyes and started giving small wags of her tail.

‘Looks like she likes you,’ Troy commented.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey smiled, not taking his eyes off her. ‘She’s good. Huh? Yeah, you’re a good girl.’

Troy waited a few seconds longer before saying, ‘I hate to cut this short, but I can’t leave you unattended with her for now, and you’ve both gotta sign the papers.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey moved his hand to scratch gently behind the dog’s ears. ‘I gotta go, but we’ll be back to get you soon.’ He straightened up and left the cage, smiling at Ian as they followed Troy back to the main desk, once he had relocked the cage.

They stood at the desk and waited for Troy to appear from the office, a small stack of papers in his hands. ‘That’s the basic adoption pack, so you just need to fill all that out, and she’s yours.’

‘When do we get to take her home?’ Mickey asked, passing the pen to Ian so he could do all the fiddly details.

‘A couple of days. She’s getting neutered tomorrow morning. We like to keep an eye on them for a couple days after, just so that in the event of something going wrong, they’re not in a strange environment when it happens.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Okay. Does she have a name?’

Troy shook his head. ‘Nope. Blank canvas, metaphorically.’

Mickey’s mouth twitched into a half smile. ‘Good thing I’m an artist, then.’

‘Really? Legitimate artist?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey huffed a laugh. ‘Could’ve said _“blank page”_ and that’d be ironic, ‘cause he’s an author.’

Troy’s eyebrows slowly joined his hairline. ‘She’ll be spoiled, then.’

‘Moderately,’ Ian said, looking up and giving Mickey a cautionary look. ‘Don’t want the other dog getting jealous.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Bitch, please. That dog’s bed is comfier than ours is.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m fuckin’ not, you know I nap on that thing.’

Troy laughed. ‘You two argue like an old married couple.’ Ian and Mickey looked at him askance, and Troy quickly tried to backtrack. ‘I mean, you’re just… You…’ he faltered and looked down at his hands awkwardly.

‘We’re not married yet,’ Ian said, going back to the papers. ‘Eight weeks.’

‘Really?’ Troy asked.

‘Mm,’ Mickey nodded. ‘We’re already out of the honeysun thing.’

‘Honeymoon phase,’ Ian corrected idly, signing the bottom of the paper with a flourish. ‘Your name here, Mick.’

Mickey took the pen and scribbled his name next to Ian’s. ‘All done.’

‘Great,’ Troy smiled, looking down to the form. ‘Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich?’

‘Yup,’ Ian nodded.

‘Cool. She’s all yours. We’ll give you a call when you can pick her up.’

‘Awesome, thank you so much,’ Ian smiled, wrapping his hand around Mickey’s wrist, prepared to pull him out, should he decide to stay in the office when he left.

‘No problem,’ Troy smiled. ‘In case I’m not here when you pick her up – congratulations on… everything.’

Ian laughed. ‘Thank you. Mick? Time to go.’

‘Fine,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and followed Ian out, waving half-heartedly in farewell to Troy.

As they got into Ian’s car and began the drive back to their apartment, Ian said, ‘Why did you choose her?’

Mickey stared dead ahead and contemplated on where in the story to begin, so he went from the start. ‘Don’t laugh at me or something.’

‘I won’t.’

Mickey exhaled slowly. ‘I was ten when my dad took me to a dog fight the first time.’

Ian was fucking glad that they were at a stoplight, because he probably would’ve swerved at that point. ‘What?’

Mickey nodded. ‘He’s mostly known for other things, but Terry loved the dog fights. Staffies are used for them a lot. They can be pretty fucking vicious,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘They’re farmed and trained up to attack other dogs… It’s fucking heart breaking.’ Mickey sighed and threaded his fingers through the hand Ian had put on his thigh to comfort him. ‘When he took me there, to that disgusting place, I told myself that I would do whatever I could to keep at least one dog out of that lifestyle.’

‘Oh, Mick,’ Ian said softly. ‘You’ve saved her, okay? She’ll be fine. We’re not gonna let that happen to her, and she’ll be happy and safe, yeah? She’ll be loved, and we’ll make sure of it.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Got a name in mind?’

‘Not really.’

‘What do you think of Nell?’

‘No. Xena?’

Ian raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I don’t think we’ll call her Xena, Mick.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘What about… Pearl.’

‘Pearl?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘You think of something.’

‘No… I like it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Pearl.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey smiled. ‘We’ll call her Pearl.’

 

* * *

 

‘I can’t believe you left your fucking suit until three days before your wedding,’ Ava shook her head and swung her legs in the air from the stool she was sitting and spinning on.

‘Hey, it’s not that bad,’ Ian replied. ‘This is my last fitting.’

‘Yeah, but you’re still getting married in three days.’

‘Irrelevant.’ Ian turned and faced the mirror, straightening his lapels and smoothing his hands down his jacket. ‘Look good?’

Ava sighed and got up to tuck the corner of his shirt collar inside his jacket. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It’s a damn tragedy you’re as gay as you are.’

Ian laughed. ‘Yeah. I know.’

‘I think you look incredible. What flower are you getting for your buttonhole thing?’

‘We’re having white roses.’

‘Creative,’ Ava rolled her eyes.

‘I wanted something that was kind of traditional.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ava shrugged. ‘What colour is Mickey’s suit?’

‘Same as mine – black with a white shirt.’

‘Boring.’

‘Ava –’

‘I know, I know. “Shut up or leave.” You’ve said.’

Ian raised his eyebrow pointedly at her. ‘You’ve got your dress sorted?’

‘Of course,’ she nodded. ‘If I’m gonna be one of your groomsmen, I’m gonna have myself sorted well before you will.’

‘You could’ve worn a suit, if you wanted.’

‘Mm, could’ve. But I figure that someone standing near the altar should be in a dress.’

Ian laughed. ‘Yeah, fair enough. And it’s not an altar, because we’re not getting married in a church.’

‘Whatever. You know what I mean.’

Ian grinned. ‘Yeah. Thanks for flying over, by the way,’ he said, tucking her into his side.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

 

* * *

 

‘Mickey?’ Mandy called, knocking on the door. ‘You okay in there?’

Mickey nodded, then remembered she couldn’t actually see him. ‘Fine. Just mentally preparing myself.’

‘Well, stop it. We have to leave or we’ll be late.’

‘Not like they’re going to start without the second groom,’ Mickey grumbled. He took his suit jacket from the hook on the back of her bathroom door and slipped it on over his shirt and waistcoat. He opened the door, and Mandy was standing across the hall, looking utterly put out. ‘Are we leavin’, or what the fuck is happening right now?’

‘We’re leaving!’ Mandy said. ‘Just gotta put the rose in your button thing…’ she shoved the stem through the hole near the top of Mickey’s lapel and smiled happily. ‘Good.’

‘Good?’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy nodded. ‘You look great, Mick.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey smiled. ‘You look amazing, Mands.’

Mandy grinned brightly at him for a few seconds, before she pulled him in for a tight hug. ‘I’m so proud of you, big brother.’

Mickey nodded against her shoulder. ‘Yeah. Me too.’

‘Okay. Ready to get married?’

‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, stop worrying,’ Lip said, putting a hand out to hold his brother still. ‘He’ll be here.’

‘What if he changed his mind?’ Ian asked. ‘What if –’

‘Oh, look,’ Lip held up his phone. ‘Text from Mandy. They’re about to pull up.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Ian moaned, taking a deep breath. ‘Oh, I think I’m going to throw up.’

‘Nervous?’

‘No, I ate a bad fucking shrimp,’ Ian snapped. ‘Yes! Fucking nervous!’

‘Well, if you wanna pull out, it’s too late,’ Lip commented lightly, as the doors to the room were thrown open.

Ian had chosen the music, because Mickey wanted nothing to do with it, so as Mickey set foot in the room, the string group Debbie had organised began playing a rendition of _My Love_ by Sia. Mickey thought it was gay as fuck, and Ian had given him a sharp look, then told him when he was supposed to start walking, and how fast to pace himself with the song.

As Mickey started walking the twenty three steps to get up to Ian, he was smiling more than Ian had ever seen.

It made Ian’s heart stop and his nerves disappear, because in twenty three steps, Mickey would be in front of him, and in half an hour, they would be married. It felt like years until Mickey was finally in position at Ian’s side, but then he was just… there. And that was how it would stay.

The officiator began a speech about _“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”_ but Ian was more focused on the way that Mickey’s eyes were clouding over with tears, as Ian’s fell openly across his cheeks.

‘Stop crying,’ Mickey murmured, taking one hand out of Ian’s and wiping the offending water from his cheeks. ‘We’ve only just started.’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘I can’t promise anything.’

‘You better. It’s why we’re here.’

‘Ian?’ the officiator said. ‘Would you like to say your vows first?’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah. Um. Okay.’ He cleared his throat and rubbed his thumbs over Mickey’s knuckles. ‘Mickey, you’re the greatest thing in my life, and I feel like I never tell you exactly how much you mean to me. Without you, I’m like a night sky without the stars, the solar system without the sun, and Russian salad without potatoes and dressing.’

A few people in the room laughed, Mickey included, and Ian took the opportunity to sniff loudly and remember the next part of his vows.

‘I promise to keep you safe from anything that would harm you. I promise to be your best friend, and to never judge you. I promise to love you unconditionally and without end, and I promise that I’ll never touch your Poptarts.’ Ian smiled and looked back to Lip for Mickey’s ring. As he pushed it onto Mickey’s finger, he continued, ‘ _Ya tebe lyublyu_ , and although we might change, that never will.’

Mickey nodded and wiggled his finger. ‘Thanks.’

The room laughed again, and the officiant gestured to Mickey to say _“Your turn.”_

‘Ian, my stupid, redheaded idiot,’ Mickey began. ‘I know I’ve been an asshole up until this point, and that’s not gonna change, but I like to think it’s part of my charm. I can’t promise you diamonds, or fancy cars and houses, but I can promise you me.’

Mickey smiled and held his hand backwards to Mandy for Ian’s ring, then put it onto Ian’s finger and rubbed the pad of his thumb over it. ‘With this ring, I promise to you, Ian Gallagher, that we will never be broken apart, that I will never let you down, and that you will never be lonely. I swear by this ring that I will be honest and open and that every fibre of my being will love every fibre of yours for the rest of our lives, and then some. This is probably going to be the only time you’ll hear me say this, so you better enjoy it – but I love you more than life itself.’

Ian bit back a sob and nodded. ‘You too, Mick.’

‘You take each other as your lawfully wedded husband?’ the officiant asked.

‘We do,’ they replied.

‘Then I pronounce you married. You may kiss!’

Ian gave up trying to hold back the tears as he pulled Mickey up to him so their mouths could meet.

Mickey had never felt happier in his life than in that moment.

 

* * *

 

‘Ladies, gentlemen and other distinguished guests,’ the DJ said through the speakers. ‘It’s time for the first dance.’

Ian and Mickey stood from their table, leaving their jackets over the back of their chairs. They had immediately shed them, as well as their ties, had unbuttoned their waistcoats, and rolled up their sleeves. They didn’t give a shit about keeping prim and proper right now, because they were flying so fucking high, nothing could touch them.

Ian held out his hand for Mickey to take, and glanced at the canvas behind their table as he waited for Mickey to disentangle himself from the chair legs. The canvas had been painted in swirling hues of blue and purple, going from pale lavender to deep, ocean blue in some places, and as promised – their silhouettes were in the middle, just like Ian had said he wanted after seeing Svetlana and Flynn’s.

Mickey still hadn’t won his battle with the chairs, and Ian looked out across to their guests. He vaguely noted Lip and Mandy huddled close together, feet twined under the table, but that was something he would only really register with later.

‘Mickey, come on,’ Ian urged.

‘Jesus, fuck, why are there so many ribbons on this fucking thing?’ Mickey asked, finally breaking free of the chair. He took Ian’s hand, and followed him onto the dancefloor. ‘What song did we decide on?’

A familiar, slow tune started, and Ian smiled happily at Mickey. ‘What do you think?’

_Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you._

Mickey laughed and wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck. ‘Of course you did.’

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you?_

‘You remember?’ Ian asked. ‘Lana and Flynn’s wedding?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah, I said we weren’t going to dance to this song.’

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes – some things are meant to be._

‘Tough shit, Milkovich,’ Ian smiled, leaning down to kiss him. ‘You love it.’

‘Not as much as I love you.’

_Take my hand, take my whole life, too, for I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘Ah, Mick,’ Ian rubbed his thumbs over Mickey’s hips and used his hold on them to make Mickey sway gently. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually here and married. Never thought you’d say yes.’

‘How long did you think my resolve would hold?’ Mickey scoffed. ‘It was weak to begin with.’

‘Really?’

‘A guy like you wanting to marry _me_? It was only at twenty percent strength, babe.’

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes – some things are meant to be._

‘Of course, I’d want to marry you,’ Ian murmured. ‘You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.’

‘Can’t have met some very amazing people, then.’

‘I have, and you’re still top of the list.’

_Take my hand, take my whole life, too, for I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘Yeah,’ Mickey rested his head on Ian’s shoulder. ‘Well. You’ve got me now, and I’m not going anywhere.’

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Ian replied, kissing Mickey’s hair.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case u wanna know what pearl should look like, [this is my dork of a staffy](http://wintersgtbuchanan.tumblr.com/post/112660272038/in-case-youve-finished-firebird-and-youre-like). she is important to life. that is all.
> 
> _now on tumblr as[wintersgtbuchanan](http://wintersgtbuchanan.tumblr.com) if u want to hmu or anything._


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